


At Odds

by BassDrop



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Malcolm, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Oliver, Omegaverse, Pheromones, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BassDrop/pseuds/BassDrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beaten, chained, trapped, Oliver is at Malcolm Merlyn's mercy as he goes into heat.  What follows is inevitable, but the consequences reach even further than the Alpha or Omega expect.  What will happen to the Undertaking when a bonded pair are at odds over the morality and necessity its implementation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chained

**Author's Note:**

> In which the dynamics of AOB, Alpha/Beta/Omega, Omegaverse are explored with biological and sociological impacts, including the sexual politics of Bonding.
> 
>  
> 
> Mz Valkyrie was also kind enough to allow me to borrow from her backstory. Oliver is a male Omega, where his uppercrust family wanted the status of an Alpha son. Using hormone and scent suppressants, Oliver has masqueraded as a Beta since puberty, while his parents went on to have another child, Thea, who has fulfilled their wishes for an Alpha progeny. (In this AU, Thea is not Malcolm Merlyn's get.)
> 
> The years on the island were a special kind of hell for Omega Oliver, where he had to hide his heats from the Alpha packs of Fyres' soldiers, not even trusting his Alpha protectors, Slade and Shado, to ease his suffering.
> 
> Back in Starling City, Oliver hides his identity and his dynamic, to do his work as the Vigilante. Not even Diggle and Felicity know his his other secret. The only other person Oliver has willingly revealed himself to was his best friend, Tommy, when he needed an Alpha he could trust to help him through a heat. (Note: in Mz Valkyrie's AU, only Robert and Oliver knew the truth; in my version, Moira and Thea also know.)
> 
>  
> 
> I do not know a thing about proper Alpha/Omega dynamics; all my knowledge is gleaned from various fics I've read, especially the aforementioned "Reap What You Sow." Any mistakes are mine and/or are variations intrinsic to my AU.

Hiding his identity had become second nature to Oliver, long before he'd donned the hood to prowl the streets at night. He'd been on pills since puberty, suppressing his fertility cycle; suppressing his pheromones with scent blockers, masking them with Beta-suited cologne. He didn't go into heat as often as a typical Omega, but he still had to suffer through them when they came on.

He should have been holed up in his room, getting drunk and curling up under the covers to spend a few hours quivering in pain. But things had been moving too swiftly, and too many lives were at stake. The Undertaking had to be stopped -- now.

Oliver thought he had a few hours of safety margin. Time enough to break into Merlyn Global, confront Malcolm Merlyn and bring his plans to a halt, one way or another.

He was sorely mistaken on all points.

 

 

The shock of cold water brought Oliver to his senses. He sputtered, and his body jerked in an instinctive fight-or-flight reaction. The strain in his elbows and shoulders told him he was suspended by his arms. His feet found purchase on the floor, but when he pulled at the restraints, he felt no resistance from any wall.

He craned his head back, blinking water droplets from his eyelashes, and tried to see what his hands were fastened to. All he saw were two long, thick chains extending high into the darkness beyond a circle of light. His wrists weren't even manacled to each other, so he couldn't get leverage that way, either.

Whoever had bound him feared his strength. Yet, if they feared him, why not just kill him?

Oliver lowered his head and shook more water from his eyes. His hood was gone, his shirt and jacket, his weapons. How long had he been unconscious? A dull weight settled in the pit of his stomach, and he knew that his heat would be upon him soon. He had to get out of here! He jerked ineffectually at the chains again.

Someone approached from the darkness. Oliver's throat closed. How many Alphas did Merlyn leave here to guard him?

But it was only Malcolm Merlyn himself. If 'only' could be used to describe the man who'd fought harder and stronger than any other Alpha Oliver had ever known. His jacket hung loose; the top buttons of his shirt were open as well. His tie was shoved into a pocket, the ends dangling out. His hair was damp; he must've cleaned up a bit after their fight, though Oliver doubted he'd used a bucket.

Merlyn strolled towards him, his hands in his pockets, his demeanor relaxed, casual once more. "I hope I didn't hurt you too bady," he said.

Oliver snorted. His back ached, his ribs were bruised, the cut on his head stung a bit. Unrelated to it all, his intestines twisted themselves into a corkscrew. He suppressed a grimace of pain, turned it into a snarl. "You killed my father."

Merlyn cast his eyes down. After a moment he said, "I'm sorry."

He didn't even try to deny it! "You sentenced me to five years of Hell on that island!"

"I am truly sorry for that," Merlyn told him, his face creased in sorrow. "I never meant to hurt you or your mother."

"You killed her Bondmate," Oliver spat. "You murdered your best friend!"

"I didn't want to." He moved closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "Robert left me no choice. He was determined to stop the Undertaking by any means necessary. I tried to...." He trailed off, looking past Oliver. A distracted expression came over his face, as if he were listening to some faint distant sound.

Oliver strained his ears a moment, but heard nothing. Then it dawned on him: he'd been sweating profusely in the fight, and then sluiced with water -- the scent blockers had been washed off. _Shit!_ "Stay away from me," he growled. He clenched his buttocks, because if he started leaking self-lubricant, it would be a siren call to any Alpha.

To Merlyn.

Merlyn didn't seem to hear him, but moved yet closer, a puzzled look on his face. If he came within reach, Oliver was going to kick out as hard as he could. His legs were still free, after all.

He prepared to launch an attack, but then it was as if two clawed hands reached into his lower abdomen and _squeezed_ his innards in tight fists. He couldn't suppress this grimace; he could barely refrain from crying out. His gut cramped so badly, the muscles of his thighs seized up. He lost his footing a moment and tried to recover. Then he felt his crease slicking up. The Alpha's pheromones must be making his heat come on faster.

"Get the hell away fro me!"

Merlyn circled behind him, like a predator. Oliver tried to deny the racking pain that was building up inside him, and moreso the knowledge of how to ease it. "Don't touch me!" Why didn't Merlyn say anything? Was he too far gone? Oliver tried to twist around to see him.

 

Malcolm frowned at Oliver. It was clear -- and becoming more painfully obvious by the second -- that the boy he'd known as a simple Beta was anything but. He didn't need to ask about the deception; there were any number of reasons for an Omega to mask his nature.

Rationality told Malcolm he should leave, before the instinct to rut overcame him. But there was something.... Something eluding him. Something enticing him.

He put one hand on Oliver's flank, one on his hip, to steady him as he stepped up to his captive and pressed his face against the boy's neck. Inhaled.

_He smells like Moira._

Malcolm had been raised with the propriety of the uppercrust. The only feeling he had had for Moira was a fierce and fraternal protectiveness for his friend's Bonded Omega.

When his own Bond had been severed on the night Rebecca had been killed, it had put him in the hospital for two weeks, screaming as his heart tried to rip itself from his chest and join his Bondmate in her grave. He had waited to die... _wanted_ to die. But at his father's insistence, they'd pumped him full of chemicals in an attempt to counteract the hormones.

Nothing sufficed. Then Moira had come to him. Malcolm always wondered if Robert knew, he even suspected the other Alpha had encouraged it, but it was not something spoken of in polite society.

Moira was already Bonded and not even in heat. Malcolm, wrung out as he was, couldn't manage a proper knot. They hadn't rutted. They'd made love. Moira's presence, her scent, had comforted him. Her Omega pheromones had rebalanced his system, and he owed her his life.

The hardest part of sentencing Robert to death was knowing the pain it would inflict on Moira. He had made sure to come calling, to be close by, in those fateful days after the yacht had left port.

As she had done for him, so he would do for her. Again, they'd made love, and Malcolm had knotted her, kept her close in his arms until dawn.

They hadn't Bonded, of course, but Malcolm had wanted to. He courted Moira to be present at her next heat. But instead, she'd Bonded Walter. As if he were a strong enough Alpha to stand against Malcolm.

Not that he had ever contested the Bond. He respected Moira, and he respected her choices, no matter his own feelings. His own lonely yearnings.

Malcolm stepped back from Oliver, just enough to pull open his shirt, then shuck it off along with his jacket. He pressed close again, skin to skin, wrapping his arms around the Omega and breathing in his heady scent. "Let me help you," he said huskily. Like he had done with Moira years ago. "Let me ease your pain."

He bit at Oliver's neck, not too hard, but enough to penetrate the ache of the heat. He rubbed the front of his trousers against the sleek leather of Oliver's pants. His cock ached to be freed -- freed enough to bury itself in hot flesh, but this was all he would grant it. For now.

 

"Let me help you," Merlyn breathed in his ear. He had his arms around Oliver's torso. They snaked up his chest to tweak and tease the swollen nipples that were stretched taut by Oliver's bondage.

"No," he groaned weakly. His skin was on fire; his back burned against Merlyn's chest, flaring where the scrapes and bruises lay. He could feel the man's thick shaft against his ass, separated only by a bit of cloth and leather, and one shaky denial.

Oliver felt the ring of muscle at his entrance begin to tingle. The feeling intensified, throbbed in time with his heartbeat, until it turned into a sweet ache. He felt a void behind it, yearning to be filled. "No...," he whispered again.

Malcolm was biting him, demanding Oliver let him help, let him ease the pain. Oliver clenched his jaw. What difference would it make? The Alpha was as much a slave to the pheromones as the Omega. This close? No one had the strength of will to stop the rut.

His cock strained against the leather confining it. A tingle ran through his body, part ecstasy, part torment. Malcolm's hands were on him, soothing where they caressed. The manacles on his wrists, the feeling of chained helplessness was inflaming his natural desire to submit. Still, he would not capitulate. Oliver let his head fall back, let his body go lax as he forced himself to stop fighting the pain and just let it flow over him. A moan escaped his throat, but he was almost beyond caring.

"Let me help you," Malcolm insisted again, supporting the Omega's limp body in his arms. "If you won't run, I can let you down."

Run? Even if his legs would stop cramping and hold him, running from an incited Alpha would trigger the killing instinct.

Malcolm nuzzled his cheek, stroking smooth skin over the stubble. _He smells like Tommy._ Tommy, the only Alpha he'd ever willingly shared his true dynamic with. The only one he'd trusted to knot him during his heat, to be the one to take away this pain. He whimpered again for what he'd lost when their lifelong friendship had ended.

Oliver's insides seized up again, drawing him tight, into as much of a curled position as he could manage, hanging by his arms. With his rigid abs, it was quite far.

Malcolm lowered one hand and rubbed Oliver's stomach, pressing hard to try to massage the cramp out. This act of kindness from a near-rut Alpha undid Oliver. "Please."

"Do you want my help?"

"Yes! Please." Another wave of pain strangled his voice. "Do it!"

Cold air washed over Oliver's back as Malcolm stepped away from him. His heart hammered in panic -- now that he'd finally surrendered, was he going to be left alone? He lifted his head, regained his footing. No, Malcolm had only moved back to strip out of the rest of his clothes.

Then his hands were on Oliver's waist, working loose the fly, freeing his cock with rough, shaky motions. They tugged the leather pants down over his hips, his thighs, then quickly yanked at his boots. Oliver panicked again, being exposed and trapped at the same time. Malcolm had promised to unchain him -- had he lied? Was he going to rut while Oliver was hanging here, helpless?

No. The Alpha's warm body pressed against him again, not to take him, but to reach up and open the manacles. Malcolm panted with the frustration of how difficult they were.

Slick ran freely from Oliver's crack, wetting his thighs, filling the air with the smell of sex. When his hands were freed, his arms crossed protectively over his stomach. The cramping muscles bent him over.

"Easy," Malcolm said, steadying him with and arm around his waist. Oliver felt the man's cock pressed against his thigh. God, he was built like a quintissential Alpha.

Oliver followed his body's instinct to curl over as he went down on his knees. His arms tingled from restored blood circulation, but they would support him. Malcolm crouched along with him, still holding him steady. He pressed a knee between Oliver's legs to get him to spread wider. Oliver complied and tried not to tense up. He knew it was going to hurt; the breach always hurt, but beyond that lay the promise of ecstasy and release. Malcolm mounted him with one strong thrust, and Oliver cried out. Polite negotiations were over. It was time to rut.

 

Malcolm let slip the bonds of control, allowed himself to sink into an Alpha state, where the mind quieted, and the body took over. A state where all that mattered was exerting sexual dominance. He knew he didn't need to fear hurting this Omega.

Omegas were supposed to be docile... submissive... _soft_. Not this one, no. He was hard, angular, bulky. Muscles rippled beneath the marked-up skin. Malcolm could feel their solidness under his hands; he had felt it when they'd fought.

They'd fought, and Malcolm had conquered his rival. He wrapped one arm around the Omega's torso, under one arm, across the chest. His other hand gripped the Omega's hip, holding it steady as he thrust, a preadator's hungry growl issuing from his throat.

 

Malcolm drove deeper with every thrust. Oliver put his head down and braced himself to take it. He let his eyes drift closed. The stretching, the friction, the rocking of his body all soothed the rampant pain of his heat. He lost himself in an Omega state, where nothing mattered but the raw animal pleasure of being fucked. The state where conscious thought gave way to pure sensation.

The knots cramping his muscles pulled loose, let go their stranglehold on his guts. The Alpha's familiar scent washed over him, bringing a feeling of closeness, trust, warmth and safety. It was like being with Tommy.

Once Tommy had known about his secret identity as the Hood, it was that much easier to let slip the mask of his dynamics, to leave himself bare with want, with need. He knew Tommy would help; he _trusted_ him.

Tommy had always been there. Even when they were toddlers, their dynamics not yet emergent. They would tussle on the rug, and Tommy, if he lost, would screw up his face into a ferocious pout. But Oliver enjoyed the contest whether he came out on top or not. In fact, he often let his friend win, for the solid comfort of feeling Tommy's weight pinning him down.

That feeling flooded him now, with Malcolm's solid weight pressing to his back, arms gripping him firmly. The head of the Alpha's cock rubbed over Oliver's prostate, bringing a moan to his throat. Within a few more strokes, it reached his internal sphincter and pressed. Malcolm didn't shift angle to try to breach him, but slowed and lengthened his strokes so they struck double sparks from the two pleasure points within Oliver's body.

The Omega controlled his breathing, trying to remain grounded as blood rushed in his ears. Hot slick ran from his tightly-stretched hole, drizzled down the back of his balls. His cock bobbed under his body. It already leaked precum; he dared not touch it lest it put him over the edge too soon.

He pressed back against Malcolm, demanding a faster rhythm. The Alpha growled low as he gave the Omega what he wanted. Oliver was pulled between wanting it harder and faster, and not wanting it to end any time soon.

Then something happened. Malcolm bit down on the nape of his neck, and this triggered Oliver's Omega reflex. He arched his back and opened his haunches to give the Alpha freer access. It also caused him to loosen his internal sphincter.

The swelling head of Malcolm's cock pressed through, scraping Oliver's cervix with excruciating pleasure. The knot finished emerging, locking it inside.

"No!" was all Oliver's frantic mind had time for. A moment later, the Alpha ejaculated, and the hot loads pumping into his body tipped Oliver into climax. His own seed spent itself across the damp concrete floor.

Malcolm slumped over him, taking weight on his own arms a moment later. "Oh no," he breathed, realizing what had happened. He tried to pull out, but his body was locked inside Oliver's.

Oliver's mind raced, along with his heart. He never, _ever_ opened his internal sphincter, for any one, for any reason. Especially not during a heat. For God's sake, he was ovulating! He needed a spermicidal douche, and he needed it fast.

He reached back and gripped Malcolm's leg, pulling the man tight against his hips, because frankly, Malcolm's efforts to disengage were hurting him. The only way that was going to work would be if Malcolm ruptured his cock, and/or ripped Oliver's cervix. "How long?" Oliver asked him. They would have to wait until the knot subsided.

"I... don't know," Malcolm said hesitantly. "An hour?"

An hour!? Jesus, did the man _never_ wank off? Oliver grimaced. That damned knot! But of course, that's what it was for. Once the mating imperative decided you should be pregnant, it enforced it by keeping the mates locked until it took hold. He cursed under his breath. Then he said, "I need to move, or my legs are going to cramp up."

Once again, he was taken by surprise by the Alpha's compassion as Malcolm held him close and gently shifted him so they were lying on one side. The floor was cold and damp, but he managed to get them lying at least partially on their discarded clothing. He cradled Oliver to him, shielding him from the concrete. Malcolm rubbed Oliver's leg to ease the muscle strain.

Oliver began to feel warm. Not the hot and fiery sensation of a heat, but... warm. And not tingly, but... fuzzy? Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Were his hormones doing this? Did this mean he was -- no, no, he _couldn't_ be! He shifted uncomfortably.

Malcolm grunted slightly as Oliver shifted against him again. Now something was poking him in the ribs. He dug it out; it was Malcolm's crumpled jacket. He balled it up and hugged it to his chest. He couldn't resist lowering his head and inhaling the scent. Behind the damp and the stone lay the not-quite-Tommy smell. The familiar scent brought back childhood memories, of sleepovers, cookouts, playing football. Oliver drew up his knees, curling around the suit jacket. A gentle sigh ghosted from his lungs and... dammit, he was nesting!

With a strangled growl, Oliver pulled the cloth away from his face. 

"Easy." Malcolm shifted to rubbing his arm soothingly. He nuzzled Oliver's neck, then began licking the bitemarks. The sting subsided as the Alpha began producing analgesic saliva. But why would his body do that? They couldn't be Bonded; it had to be a reaction to Oliver's pheromones. Which were _not_ changing because he was pregnant.

Malcolm pressed his hips closer, rocking slowly. His cock swelled, growing hard again. The knot didn't give him enough leeway for a full stroke, but he pressed and eased back.

"No, no, no," Oliver murmured. He could dodge the bullet once, maybe, but if the man came inside him now, he would definitely get pregnant. His protests dissolved into mindless mutterings, because every time the knot rubbed against his cervix, his whole body _chimed_ with ecstasy.

He moved his hips in rhythm with his Alpha, trying to prolong and intensify the sensations. They overrode everything: thought first and foremost; then the world dissolved, the room, the floor. Oliver could only see a white haze behind his eyes, only hear the exquisite chiming of his body. His own voice sounded distant as he moaned and panted, begged for more.

Then he felt his Alpha grip him, and shudder. Heat exploded inside him, and he orgasmed. Never mind ejaculation, this was a cervical orgasm; it picked him up like a wave under a boat; it shook him to his core. The powerful muscles of his cervix and sphincter pumped, and Malcolm's shout joined Oliver's.

Like a wave breaking over the shore, the energy dissipated, spread. Oliver's body melted in a sea of pleasure. That warm tingling sensation overcame him again, and something tugged at his solar plexus. Heat pooled in his loins; his cock swelled.

Malcolm pushed him over, back onto his knees, where he could get leverage. _Again?_ A strong hand closed over his shaft. _Oh yes; oh_ yes!

Once more that chiming rang through him, dissolving the world in another beautific haze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the whole story outlined, but some parts are a little more vague than others. Updates will be sporadic. Sorry!


	2. Another Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Alpha approaches the knotted pair while they're helpless.

Malcolm lay cradling Oliver on the cold cement floor. He stroked that bristly, sweat-damp hair, caressed the face that, in sleep, shed some of its years and allowed Malcolm to see back in time to that boy he remembered.

The boy he had inadvertently killed, turned into the scarred, broken man that had returned. And yet, he had returned stronger. A fighter, not a victim. Malcolm ran his palm slowly up and down Oliver's rounded bicep.

His feelings confused him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was right. In a few hours, Rebecca's murder would be avenged. Finally, after all these years, he could lay her ghost to rest. And then he would be free to start a new life. A life with his Omega and their child.

The glacial ice that had covered Malcolm's heart for so many years began to melt away. The sun returned, thawing it, letting it beat again. And it hurt. It hurt like a raw wound laid bare, like an atrophied muscle forced into labor once more. It hurt until Malcolm thought he might cry from the happiness of feeling this pain.

He and Oliver could travel to Nanda Parbat. There, their age difference wouldn't matter. Oliver could train with the best martial artists in the world. No matter that he was an Omega; he was _strong_. Strong enough to advance in the ranks to a place of high honor. And their child would inherit their legacy; they could found a dynasty, like Ra's Al Ghul and his children.

Malcolm couldn't wait to have another child. It would be just like when Tommy was a boy, back when they got along and were happy. Oh, he still loved Tommy, but being an Alpha was like being a stallion. Eventually, you had to break ties with your sons, or there would be conflict.

It didn't matter if it were a boy or a girl. It didn't even matter if it were an Alpha or Omega, or even a Beta -- he and Oliver would raise their child to be strong. Malcolm had so much love to--

He stilled and lifted his head. Something was wrong. Uneasily, he tried to pull away from Oliver, eliciting a whimper of protest. No, they were still knotted. He squeezed Oliver's arm to rouse him; he thought he heard yelling.

Two gunshots rang out from somewhere at the front of the warehouse. Oliver was instantly alert, stilled from leaping up only by Malcolm's grip on his arm. "What's happening?"

_We're under attack_ , Malcolm thought in a panic. An Alpha's worst nightmare: to be caught while he was knotted, helpless to defend himself.

Another shot rang out, then momentary silence. Two more shots rang out, voices from different guns. And then silence again, that stretched out. The two men lay entwined on the floor, holding their breaths.

 

 

Diggle cautiously approached the loading door, sidearm at the ready. The tracker's signal led him through here. Whoever was in there obviously heard the shots, but they didn't seem interested in coming out. Well, there was only one thing for it.

The Alpha stood at the edge of the sliding door, then shoved it with his foot. It rolled open with a loud rattle. Diggle followed his gun, keeping low; there was a staircase, good cover, check upstairs, no target. His nose twitched, catching the reeking smell of a rut. His Alpha aggressiveness kicked in, only to be reined back. He wasn't here for that.

It was hard to see into the shadowy recesses of the wide room, but it appeared the only people in here were lying in the middle of the floor, naked. Keeping one eye out, Diggle approached. "Oliver?"

"Diggle, put it away!"

"What?"

"Diggle, _stand down!_ "

Struggling to ignore the overpowering rut scent, he looked down, trying to deny what he knew he would see: Oliver struggling in Merlyn's grip, impaled and clearly knotted by the magnate. Diggle's lips peeled back in a snarl. "You sick fuck!" He raised his gun and moved to get a clear shot.

 

 

The man's scent preceded him across the floor. _Alpha_ , Malcolm's mind identified. _Rival._ He tried to roll Oliver over onto his stomach, to shield the Omega's body with his own. Oliver resisted.

"Put the gun down!" he was yelling.

The encroaching Alpha only snarled and raised his weapon, aiming to kill Malcolm. He snarled defiantly back. But then Oliver threw his weight over, until he was on top of Malcolm, between him and the gun.

When Malcolm saw his Omega in danger, his adrenaline kicked into high gear. Bloodflow drew back from the extremities in preparation to fight. As soon as the knot withdrew, Malcolm shoved Oliver one way and rolled the other. Unfortunately, Oliver was closer to the gunman.

Before Malcolm could scramble to his feet, a shot deafened him, and something punched into his ribs, knocking him flat and stealing the breath from his body. He lay dazed a moment, knowing he had to get up, but unable.

There was a scream, like the roar of a big cat. A meaty impact, a crash of bodies to the floor. More screaming -- was that Oliver? -- and then the hammering smack of flesh on flesh.

Malcolm struggled to breathe, so he could move. Was that Alpha raping Oliver? Hurting Oliver! _His_ Omega; he had to protect him! Malcolm pushed with his arms, and managed to flop onto his back. Pain exploded along his right side. His vision was dimming, but he could see the two figures... the light one kneeling over the dark one, fists flailing, driving down over and over.

"Ol...," Malcolm gasped. He moved his arm to reach for his lover.

And then all went black.


	3. At the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Diggle go into surgery, and Diggle into ICU. Felicity tries to deal with the mess as best she can, though she doesn't understand what is going on until she sees Oliver. Oliver has to deal with her, and with his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, here's the major characters' dynamics: Diggle-Alpha, Felicity-Beta, Moira-Omega, Thea-Alpha, Quentin Lance-Alpha, Laurel-Omega.

News Seven: _"Our top story this morning: 3 men killed and 2 severely injured in what police are calling a rutting rivalry between Alphas. Not just any ordinary rivalry; the contested Omega is reported to be none other than millionaire playboy, Oliver Queen."_

Channel 9: _"There is no law that says a person must declare his or her dynamic! Why wouldn't Oliver Queen try to avoid the stigmatization of the label 'Omega'? I think this is a wake-up call to society to look how it treats this so-called 'submissive' gender."_

Network 23: _"Rumors run rampant about the alleged Pairbonding that occurred last night, between business mogul Malcolm Merlyn and millionaire scion Oliver Queen. The question on our minds is,_ if _this is true, what impact might it have on the two international companies, and indeed on local and global economy?"_

QYBC Talk Radio: _"Malcolm Merlyn is listed in guarded condition, and doctors are optimistic about his recovery. Not so much so for his alleged rival, who remains in a coma after being severely bludgeoned. What do you say about that, Phil?"_

_"I say, buy Merlyn Global stock, and do_ not _get in that Alpha's way!"_

 

 

Oliver didn't know what had happened. Diggle had attacked them. Oliver had tried to defend Malcolm; Malcolm had tried to defend him. Malcolm had been shot, _hurt_ , possibly killed, and Oliver had flown into a red rage.

The next thing he knew, he was looking down on an unrecognizable face, smashed to a pulp, blood bubbling out where its nose used to be. Another wheezing breath came from behind him, where Malcolm was losing blood and consciousness. Oliver ran to him, tried to staunch the bleeding, then back to Diggle, who had to have a phone on him somewhere. He called 911, then returned to cradle his Alpha in his lap.

There were ambulances, EMTs, police, reporters, hospital, doctors, surgeries. A blur of faces, talk, information, questions. Someone had gotten him some ill-fitting clothes. They checked him over, despite his protests, and found nothing worse than a battering and some bruises. He was barred from the OR, and finally left alone in a private hospital room. They were going to bring Malcolm here when they were finished. The scent of his Omega would help speed his healing.

"Do you want a sedative?" the nurse asked him kindly.

"No."

"You need to calm down, so he can rest. Being all agitated and worried isn't going to be good for him. He'll pick up on that."

"I do not want a sedative." He took a breath. "I'll be fine."

"All right. You need anything, honey, just call."

Oliver paced. The feeling he'd had during the rut, like a tugging of heartstrings; it was back. It hurt, that spot just below his sternum. And it kept on hurting, growing stronger and more insistent the longer he was away from Malcolm.

It was the Bond.

There was nothing else it could be, and it was going to drive him mad.

So he paced, clutching the damp and crumpled suit jacket like some kind of security blanket. _God, the next thing you know, I'll be sitting here sucking my thumb._ Dammit!

It didn't make sense! You fell in love first, then came the rut, and _then_ the Bond. It couldn't happen backwards!

Then again, it hadn't exactly been a typical rut. He'd been out of his mind with pleasure; he'd been hormonal from the impregnation. Because though it was too early to confirm, Oliver was dead sure he was pregnant. Probably with triplets! Damn, this was fucked up!

He had been angry at Malcolm. Angry about the Undertaking, furious about the man's confessed responsibility for his father's death, his own exile. But he couldn't seem to generate these feelings any more. Oh, he still wanted to stop the Undertaking; he hadn't completely lost his mind. But he no longer wanted to kill Malcolm Merlyn. The mere thought drove him into a gut-twisting panic.

No, he just wanted to talk to the man. He wanted to understand why Malcolm had done the things he'd done. He wanted to explain why the Undertaking was wrong; to make him see. He wanted to ask just what his father had meant when he'd said, 'Right my wrongs.' Most of all, he wanted to find out... did the other man feel these same things he did?

Oliver hugged the jacket to his chest. Malcolm had to be okay. He had all the answers.

 

 

Felicity had rushed to the hospital; it was a madhouse. She'd tried to see Diggle and had ended up being questioned by a police officer, asking if she knew anything about Diggle and Oliver and Merlyn. No, she was totally clueless. And where the hell was Oliver? Probably stuck talking to three different cops. At least they didn't ask anything about the Vigilante, thank God!

Then she was told Diggle would be in surgery for hours. There was nothing she could do here, so go home and get some rest. As if she could close her eyes, knowing Diggle was so badly hurt. But the team needed her because, again, where the hell was Oliver? He didn't have his phone. So she went to Oliver's last known location, which was now a crime scene. She'd meant to spirit away any Vigilante evidence, but with the police swarming all over, that was not going to happen. At least they had not found any green hood nor bows nor arrows.

Then she tried to backtrace activity in the warehouse where the Markov Device had been, before Merlyn had moved it in anticipation of their interception. She was not successful.

Dawn arrived four hours later, and she returned to the hospital.

"Visiting hours aren't until noon. Are you a relative?"

"Yes."

The nurse gave her a dubious look. How racist was that?

"I'm his fiancee," Felicity clarified.

The look rolled down to her clearly ringless left hand.

"What? We're not made of money. We're saving for our wedding." Felicity bounced impatiently. She didn't have Carly's number, and the diner didn't open until 10. Did widow-in-law count as a relative? "Look, do you see anybody else here to visit him?"

The nurse shrugged and waved for her to go on in.

 

 

Felicity didn't know what to expect when she went into Diggle's room. The blinds were drawn and it was dimly-lit. There were monitors and a breathing tube, beeping and wheezing quietly in the corner. And Oliver was not there; perhaps he'd stepped out for a bit.

She couldn't see Diggle's face for the wrapping of bandages. She went to his side and took his large hand in hers, careful not to dislodge the wires and tubes. "It's me," she said in a hushed voice. "Felicity. Can you hear me?" There was no response. His hand remained limp in hers; the beeping and wheezing continued at the same pace. He was in a coma, they had said. But that didn't mean he couldn't hear.

"We're going to get through this," she continued. "I know you will. You're strong. Stubborn like that, too." She smiled and blinked back tears. He needed positive thoughts. "At least we don't need to worry about Mr. Merlyn setting off any earthquakes anytime soon. You done good, Digg. We'll get him." She rubbed his hand with her thumb. "Oliver will make this right."

She sat with him a while, fatigue catching up with her. She wondered if Oliver had gone to get some coffee, and if he had, she was going to steal it. "Do you think he got lost?" she asked Diggle. "I thought he'd be back by now. I'll go look for him."

 

 

She asked at the nurse's station (not Nurse DragonLady's station) about where Oliver might be, and she was directed to a room on the sixth floor. She pushed hesitantly on the door, sure this was a mistake. She had an apology ready on her lips, but then she saw him, sitting by the bed, leaning over and caressing someone's forehead. "Oliver?" She stepped inside and let the door close.

She began to approach him, then stopped dead. That, there in the bed, that was Malcolm Merlyn, unconscious or asleep. "Oliver, what--? What's going on? Why are you here?"

"I belong here, Felicity," he said, his voice subdued. He didn't look up.

"Is this... one of your... super secret plan plot things?" There had been some crazy rumors flying around about the altercation between Oliver, Diggle, and Merlyn. She'd figured that was a smokescreen for Vigilante activities.

He looked up at her and shook his head. "No, it's not a plot. We're Bonded."

"You can't bond... you're a Beta."

He was still shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Felicity, but I'm not. I've hidden it all my life, and I hid it from you and Diggle, too. It wasn't that I didn't trust you, it was just...'" He shrugged. "Habit."

She absorbed this information, realizing now that some of the precautions he'd taken to hide his identity as the Vigilante performed double duty to hide his status as an Omega. "All right. But this... I don't understand. How? How could this have happened?"

"Do you really need a lesson in high school biology?"

Taken aback, she blinked her mind free of... images. "No, but... in order for a pairbond to form... there has to be an emotional connection."

"There is."

"There can't be." She frowned. "After what he was planning? After what he did to Diggle? God, Oliver, Diggle's in a coma; they can't tell yet how much brain damage he may have suffered. How can you just sit there so calmly, smiling, and saying 'I'm Bonded'?"

"I'm pregnant."

Felicity had been keeping up with this strange switchover from Oliver the Buff Beta to Oliver the Odd Omega, but right there, her brain just... stopped. "Oh. My God."

She tried to process this for a minute, but truly... it wasn't working. She took a breath. "Oliver, you're not thinking clearly. This... this is your hormones talking. You need to put aside your feelings and think about this logically. You do not belong with this man. You can't just give up everything you've worked for and join his side!"

"I don't need to give up anything, or change sides. I will work this out."

"Work it out? The Undertaking? How are you going to work that out?" Oliver had gone off the deep end. He was an Omega, that meant he was submissive. The Alpha ran the show. He was Merlyn's-- good God! "You need to get away from him. Get some space to get your head clear."

"No, I do not."

She went over and tugged his arm. He stood. "You do. You seriously do. Come on, Oliver. You'll thank me in the morning." She turned, fully intending to drag him out if she had to.

He shook off her hand, so she used both to grab his elbow. "Come _on_."

"Let go of me."

"You need to trust me, and let me get you out of here."

He growled at her. Literally growled at her, his brows knitted, his eyes hard.

She gasped and let go of his arm.

"Get out."

"But Ol--"

"Now."

She backpedaled. He was glaring at her with eyes as cold as ice. As if he would really hurt her.

Then Malcolm moaned and stirred. Instantly, Oliver's demeanor changed, and he turned. "Easy, everything is all right." He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to press his lips gently to the other man's. He whispered more reassurances between kisses.

Felicity, mouth agape, just kept stepping backwards... until she reached the door. Then she turned and fled.

 

 

"Lie still." Oliver caressed Malcolm's cheek, and licked softly at his lips. He placed his scent there, where the Alpha could taste him. In the same way Malcolm had eased the pain of the bites on his neck, Oliver used his calming Omega pheromones to provide a soothing effect. "Rest," he whispered.

He stroked Malcolm's soft hair as the man drifted back into a deep sleep.

Felicity was gone, but he wasn't done being beset just yet, because his mother would show up soon....

 

 

The door opened, and Moira Queen rushed in. Worry lined her face, but she was as impeccably dressed as ever. Thea was not with her; the hospital staff would not let another Alpha into Malcolm's room.

"Oliver?" He stood as she enveloped him in her arms. "My God. Are you all right?"

He returned the embrace. "Mom, I'm fine," he reassured her.

She held him a moment longer, pressing her nose to his unfamiliar borrowed clothes, taking in his scent. Abruptly she drew back. "Oh God... it's true!?" Her expression showed shock and horror. Her lip trembled. "Sweetheart, you have to come away. We... we have to do something. We can fix this."

"I do not need 'fixing.'"

"You're upset; I understand. You're confused."

"No, I'm not."

"Come away with me now, Oliver."

He planted his feet and folded his arms. "I said no!"

"I'm your mother." She leveled a glare at him. "You are my son! Now I'm telling you, you're coming home with me this instant."

"No." He bit off the word. "I'm an adult. You are not in control of my life any more."

"Oliver, please. You don't understand." She placed a hand on his arm, but he was not moved.

"I'm not leaving him."

"He killed your father!"

"I know that!"

Moira flinched back, her eyes wide. "Wh--? But how?"

"I know a lot about the secrets that have been hidden in this family," he told her, his voice low.

"You cannot know what he's capable of," his mother insisted. "He is not our friend, Oliver. He raped you, the same way he raped me after he killed Robert."

He felt a shock of cold go through him. "No, that... that's not what happened." Malcolm had asked, had tried to soothe his pain. Malcolm had bitten him, and demanded his surrender. Confused, Oliver shook his head.

"Whatever he's told you, to make you... feel this way," his mother said, putting her hands on his biceps, looking up into his eyes, "it's all lies."

"No. It's my decision." He had to stand fast behind it.

She wasn't listening. "It hasn't been long... another Alpha might break the Bond." She tugged at his arm. "Come home, Oliver. Thea's there, we can--"

He whipped his arm out of her grip. "I do not believe you would even think of such a thing!" His lip curled in disgust. "Get out. Don't come back. And don't think about sending some goons to kidnap me. I _will_ kill them."

Moira lowered her eyes, her head. Her shoulders rounded in the face of his aggression. She had no choice but to turn and go.


	4. Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What pheromones have dictated should be, no man may set asunder. Oliver is finally outed as the police investigate the deaths at the warehouse.

Malcolm slowly rose to consciousness. He didn't move yet, nor open his eyes; that seemed too much to ask of his body. He didn't know where he was, but... there was a familiar presence. Rebecca? No... not for many years, now. Moira...?

Light seeped in as he cracked his eyelids open. "Oliver?" His voice was dry. He licked his lips and tried again. "Are you all right?"

The young man leaned over the bed, one arm resting alongside the pillow. His face came into focus, and a smile crossed it. "I'm fine. You're the one who got shot."

"What happened?" Was someone threatening them? He had to get up and protect his Omega.

"It's okay." It was so hard to move, he was so weak. Oliver pressed a hand to his shoulder, keeping him pinned down. "It's okay; we're safe. We're in the hospital."

Malcolm stopped struggling. He gazed at the white ceiling. "You saved my life. Again." His heart went out, along the Bond, to Oliver. But... it couldn't be a Bonding. Oliver had been angry with him. It must only be some emotional weakness within himself. He couldn't become attached to a man who didn't feel the same way towards him.

Oliver bent low and said quietly, "They think you attacked Diggle, the man who came to find me. The police will be asking questions."

"You're thinking they should probably continue thinking that."

Oliver nodded. It made sense. Two Alphas clashing over a receptive Omega would not raise any suspicions or invite further investigation. It was an unfortunate occurrence, but a simple matter of biology that no one could control. And no one would question it. Malcolm turned his eyes back to the face of the young man beside him. Again he was struck by Oliver's strength and conviction. It could match his own. It hurt Malcolm to know they could never be together.

Oliver's face creased in concern. "Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"

"No, I don't want a nurse...." He wanted Oliver; his heart ached in yearning. Why? Why was it doing this to him?

"Shhh." His Omega sensed his distress and bent to press his lips softly against his mouth. A jolt went through Malcolm's body, straight down his core to his groin and back to his solar plexus. _His_ Omega. It was the taste of Oliver on his lips, the scent of him so near. There was no mistaking that feeling.

Yet it couldn't be right. "Are we...?" Malcolm looked into Oliver's face as the latter pulled away just enough.

"Yes." Another smile tugged at those lips. "Yes, we are."

"But... how? I... I killed your father."

"No." Oliver looked down, hooding his blue-grey eyes. "No, you didn't. I... He killed himself. He did it so I would survive."

This cut Malcolm deeply. It was one thing to hear how a man was rescued from being shipwrecked on an island after five years, of course one understood the hardship. It was entirely another to think about those hardships and what, exactly, they had entailed. Malcolm had driven his best friend to such despair, to such extremes. "It's my fault. I have to...."

"Your job," Oliver said, a hand firmly on Malcolm's shoulder once more, "is to rest and heal up. Actually," he said, brightening, "I have something that will help speed up the process. I'll just go get it."

He turned to get up, but Malcolm grabbed his arm. "Don't. Don't leave."

"I'll just be gone a little while." He moved to disengage his arm and stand up.

"No! You can't!" Malcolm felt his heart race; he heard it on the monitors.

"Whoa, easy; take it easy." Oliver frowned down at him. "Look, I'll leave my shirt here," he said, thinking the presence of his scent would help. "I'm going to be fine, I just need to get some things."

"I need to go with you."

"I'm not going into a war zone, just down to the club. Calm down."

Calm down? His club was in the Glades! "You can't go, Oliver, please!" His chest started to hurt. "That's what happened to Rebecca. I wasn't there to protect her, she got killed! I can't go through that again!"

The door opened and one of the nurses came in. "What's going on?" She cast a look at Oliver and Malcolm, then she went to check the heart monitor.

Oliver said, "It's nothing. I just need to go get some things. Can you give him a sedative?"

"No!" Malcolm protested.

"No," the nurse echoed. "You need to stay here until he's stronger."

"But--"

"Whatever it is you need, someone else can bring it."

"My family isn't very supportive right now."

"Don't you have any other friends?"

Oliver grimaced. "They're not exactly supportive, either."

The nurse gave him a pitying look. "We'll send an orderly to fetch things for you."

"Just some clothes, then. If my mother will part with them. Or maybe I'll have to buy new ones."

Malcolm felt rotten doing this to Oliver. After the nurse left, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... for any of this to happen."

Oliver sat back down and took his hand. "It's all right. We'll make it through this."

Malcolm gripped the strong and calloused fingers, heartened by Oliver's use of the word 'we.' A spark of hope ignited in the darkness within him.

 

 

The doctor came in a few minutes later to check on Malcolm. Despite Oliver's insistence on waiting a few days, he pronounced Malcolm fit to talk to the police. They'd sent Laurel's father to question them. Well, to question Malcolm. Lance's partner, Detective Hilton, took Oliver into another room, so they could be questioned separately.

Hilton was a Beta, unthreatening. He spoke quietly to Oliver with respect. Oliver wanted to be affronted to be treated as if he were made of glass, but secretly, he enjoyed the respect that the acknowledgement of his dynamic had granted him.

The detective had the staff lounge cleared out for the interview. He sat opposite from Oliver, a few feet separating them. He took out his notebook.

"Mr. Queen, I have to ask you a few routine questions about the incident, and circumstances surrounding it."

"I understand." Just like taking a lie detector test down at the station. Nothing to be fazed about.

"Mr. Queen, are you, in fact, an Omega?"

"Yes."

"Were you in heat last night?"

"Yes."

"And did you rut with anyone at that time?"

"I thought that was obvious."

Hilton shrugged in admission, but gestured for him to answer anyway.

"Yes. With Malcolm Merlyn."

"Anyone else?"

"No."

The detective didn't bother asking if it had been consensual. There was no legal precedent for a charge of rape when an Omega was in heat. Alphas and even strong Betas couldn't be expected to resist the breeding imperative. It was the Omega's responsibility to be somewhere safe when his or her heat came on.

"And did a Bonding take place?"

"Yes."

And that was the end of that. There was no way a nonconsensual rut would ever end in a Pairbond. Hilton wrote a note in his book. "Now, Mr. Queen, can you tell me in your own words what happened that night?"

 

 

Quentin Lance wrote meticulously in his notebook, absorbing Malcolm Merlyn's recounting of events. He tried to remain professionally detached, but Jesus Christ -- Oliver Queen an Omega? What the hell had he been doing with Laurel? Breaking her heart just to further his masquerade like a goddamned rich brat. And what if Oliver had ever gone into heat around him? God, it turned his stomach.

He shook himself and focused on the task at hand. "So these men John Diggle killed. They were your bodyguards."

"That's correct." The business magnate remained calm through the interview. Too calm, if you asked Quentin. Just more throwaway lives there for the upper crust bastards to use.

"You were shot...," Quentin glanced back through his notes, "practically in the back, which means he didn't shoot you while you were attacking him." He looked up into Merlyn's cold eyes. "You had two cracked ribs and a punctured lung. How, exactly, did you get up and pulverize this guy?"

"I had just been rutting; I wasn't feeling any pain." Merlyn shrugged, and a wry smile tugged at his lips. "Hormones, adrenaline... the whole thing is really just a blur. I don't even actually recall hitting him." His mien darkened. "I collapsed just after. Then Oliver called 911."

"Mr. Merlyn, do you want to explain what you, three of your bodyguards, and Oliver Queen were doing in that warehouse at that time of night?"

"I don't think that's relevant to the case."

Quentin fixed him with an authoritative glare. The other Alpha stared back in a silent struggle for dominance. If Quentin could press him -- but no, he had no legal leg to stand on, and the magnate knew it.

Sourly, he looked down and closed his notebook. He stood and resisted the urge to issue a warning against leaving town. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Merlyn," he managed.

"Of course, detective."

 

 

Malcolm hadn't realized the stress the interview would put on him. While the detective was here, he'd been focused on holding his own against the other Alpha's questions. Now that he was alone, his ribs ached. Worse, he felt restless. Worry gnawed at his gut.

_He's just a few yards away_ , he tried to tell his body. _In a safe place, protected by police._ Besides which, Oliver _was_ the Vigilante. He could hold his own against Malcolm, he could handle any ordinary threat with ease.

_He'll be back soon_ , he reassured himself.

 

 

Oliver felt liberated, as if a great weight were gone from his shoulders, as if chains had fallen from his wrists and ankles, and he could finally stand straight, unimpeded. 

_The truth will set you free_ , he mused.

All these years of lying, hiding his true dynamic, masquerading as something he wasn't, fearing discovery, dreading rape... they were over. He'd thought he'd be embarrassed. _Yes, I am an Omega, weak and submissive, for anyone to bend over and fuck._ But no, he was still himself, Oliver Queen, confident (arrogant) rich boy. And he had a powerful Alpha as his Bondmate.

Only one last lie remained -- at least, concerning his dynamic, not his vigilantism. They had to continue people's assumption that Malcolm had injured Diggle an an Alpha-Alpha rivalry. For an Omega to attack an Alpha... well, it was unheard of! But if an Alpha was attacked by another during a rut, that was justifiable homicide. Diggle wasn't dead, thank God, but Malcolm wasn't going to get into trouble over his condition, either.

Oliver twisted his hands together. He'd gone into a blind rage and beaten his friend to a pulp. It turned his stomach, but why hadn't Diggle put the gun down when Oliver had yelled at him to do so?

Pheromones. And hormones. Humans thought they were such a rational, highly-evolved race, but they were all still slaves to the chemicals running through them. Maybe the Beta purists were right, and they were the way of the future. But right now, he wouldn't give up his status for anything.

Hilton finished his murmured consultation with Detective Lance. "That will be all for today, Mr. Queen."

"Thank you, detective."

He skirted past Laurel's father, who continued to bore through Oliver's skin with his eyes. Lance was too much of a professional (Oliver hoped) to say anything while on duty, but Oliver made a note to avoid any civilian encounters with the man.

If there was anything Oliver regretted about his dynamic being outed, it was the people that had been hurt. He didn't know what he could ever say to Diggle, but at least Laurel had Tommy. Alpha and Omega; they were right together.


	5. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Malcolm leave the hospital.

Malcolm rested for two days while Oliver fretted. He couldn't ask about Diggle's progress, that would only seem suspicious. He didn't have the right. Diggle had been a loyal bodyguard, a good friend. He'd protected Oliver like a good Alpha, and Oliver had.... Oliver had almost killed him.

He had no right to be part of Diggle's life any more. He'd siphoned money from his trust fund into Diggle's account. It was a poor excuse for an apology. Diggle probably never wanted to see him again, anyway.

As for Felicity... Oliver thought about calling her to fetch his packet of herbal medicine for Malcolm. Why would she help? She hated Malcolm. And after Oliver had told her to get away from him... she must hate him as well. He'd lied to her, deceived her and Diggle, and then betrayed them.

He closed his eyes. His mother was threatening to disinherit him. He had no family, he had no friends. All he had left in his world was his Alpha. He curled up in the bed against Malcolm's uninjured side. He just wanted everything to go away for a while. He let Malcolm's scent lull him into a light doze.

Subconsciously, Malcolm's hand sought his, and he clasped it.

 

 

After two days, Malcolm insisted on being discharged. He had private physicians that could monitor his further recovery. He could stand, and even walk (with a bit of help from his Omega).

Before going to the front desk, Malcolm had Oliver help him shave and dress. Oliver obeyed without question, and groomed and dressed himself in a suit that Malcolm had sent in. He didn't know why until they got downstairs. Outside the hospital doors was a mob of reporters and TV crews. Oliver's stomach clenched.

Two patrolmen stood outside the glass doors, preventing anyone from trying to barge into the hospital. Detectives Lance and Hilton waited inside. Lance's eyes bored into Oliver. He looked elsewhere.

Malcolm had conceded to ride down in a wheelchair. Eschewing Oliver's offered hand, he stood on his own, that stubborn, strong, proud Alpha. He smoothed his jacket and straightened his tie. Oliver felt a surge of pride and admiration of his Bondmate.

Detective Hilton came forward.

Malcolm said, "I trust the investigation is going well."

"Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Merlyn. We're still waiting to see if Mr. Diggle can give us his statement."

Oliver winced. With concern in his voice, Malcolm asked, "How is he doing?"

"Still in a coma."

"I do hope he makes a full recovery."

"That's doubtful," Lance growled sourly from the background.

Oliver looked at the floor to avoid his accusing glare.

"Don't leave town, Merlyn. Or you, Queen." Bitterness was clear in his tone.

Oliver felt Malcolm tense next to him, just slightly, though he gave no outward sign of it in his posture or his voice. "I'm going to be spending the next few weeks recovering from a gunshot wound, Detective. Trust me, I have no travel plans." The two Alphas locked gazes while Detective Hilton and Oliver shared a brief commiserative glance. "Perhaps you'd like to have your men clear us a path through the reporters."

Lance only shrugged. "Hey, freedom of the press. What can you do, huh?" He turned and strode off. With a tight-lipped grimace, his partner followed.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. Outside, the limo pulled in as tightly as it could behind the mob. Oliver dreaded having to fight his way through the questions, the accusations, the probing cameras. And his Alpha was wounded. He worried about the strain on Malcolm and his health. Oliver could very well snap and break someone's neck, if he felt they were threatened.

Malcolm had other ideas, however. He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Craig. Disperse the crowd."

Behind the limo, three more cars appeared. Dark-suited men, big men, got out and started very gently but firmly shoving people back. They created an intimidating cordon along the passage to the limousine.

Oliver looked at his Alpha with awe. The corner of Malcolm's lips curled up in a self-satisfied smirk. "Often, the police are inadequate at their job."

Oliver clenched his teeth and tried to keep his expression blank. If Lance had heard that (and Malcolm had not bothered to keep his voice down), he'd be staring daggers at the pair.

Malcolm lifted his arm, and Oliver dipped his shoulder to come up underneath it. He helped support his Alpha while at the same time he felt protected in the shelter of that strong arm. His other arm slipped naturally around Malcolm's waist.

Malcolm smiled at him, "Let's go home."

Oliver smiled back, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.


	6. Complicated Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy asks the one question on everybody's mind. And then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "knocked up" is American slang for being pregnant.

Oliver mixed up a batch of his medicinal herbs and brought the mug into the sitting room. Malcolm took it. "Thank you."

"You won't be thanking me once you taste it." He tried not to laugh at his Bondmate's face as Malcolm chugged the concoction. He handed the man a bottle of sparkling water with which to wash it down.

Oliver's ears perked up when he heard a car pulling up outside. He looked to Malcolm; his Alpha did not appear concerned, though a look of wary resignation painted his features. Oliver moved around the couch, positioning himself where he could intervene if there were a threat.

The front door opened and a familiar voice drifted in from the hall. "Dad? They wouldn't let me see you in the hosp--" Tommy strode in and stopped dead. He stared at Oliver.

Words deserted the Omega. How could he explain? What could he say? He just stood there awkwardly.

For several moments, no one spoke. Tommy kept looking back and forth between his father and Oliver, his mouth agape, his eyes guarded, his mind trying to process the information that had been building up these past few days, and the facts here before him now.

Finally, he summed it all up in the question that was at the forefront of everyone's mind: "The fuck??"

Oliver's tongue froze. Malcolm also did not seem to have a ready answer. Tommy kept staring at them, a storm of conflicting emotions brewing in his expression. "The _fuck?_ "

"Tommy," Malcolm began.

His son cut him off. "No. You-- " he emphasized every word, gesturing, "Fucked. My best friend." Malcolm closed his mouth and looked down. "He's half your age!" Tommy rubbed a hand over his eyes, then turned on Oliver. "And you! You... _seriously?_ You Bonded my father?"

Oliver flooded with shame at Tommy's hurt look of betrayal.

"What the hell was going on there?" Again, Oliver's throat locked. He had no answer.

Tommy gave up and turned to raid the drink cabinet. He sloshed some scotch into a tumbler, gulped it down, then filled it up again.

"Son...."

"No, don't you 'son' me," Tommy replied viciously. "I was never good enough for you! So, what the fuck? You get a replacement?"

"I know you're upset...."

"Y'think!?" Tommy shotgunned another gulp, then rounded on Oliver. "And you! What the hell, one trust fund wasn't enough for you? Hey," he said, gesturing with broad sarcasm, "Tommy's dad cut him off; no sense letting all that money go to waste!"

Oliver struggled to find something to say, but Tommy wasn't interested in listening. He ran roughshod over anything Malcolm tried to tell him. Oliver saw the man wince and wanted to go comfort him. But he locked his knees and stood firm, knowing such a display of concern would only incite Tommy further. Couldn't he see how much his father was hurting?

"Do you know what kind of looks I've been getting? And how the hell were you there at the hospital and not getting hormone therapy to stop this farce?"

"Tommy, I can't go through that again," Malcolm answered miserably.

"Oh, come on! This isn't the Dark Ages! Nobody dies from a broken Bond any more." Tommy shook his head in disgust and finished off his glass. "This is the age of divorce. You go for shots a few days and bam, you're cured."

"It's not that simple."

Tommy still wasn't listening. "And what the hell? Are you expecting to get married?"

Malcolm shot Oliver a glance. "We haven't--"

"Of course! That would be perfect! Let's just write Tommy out of the will, because now that you have _him_ , you don't need _me_." Tommy was pacing now, his face twisted in a pained snarl, his hands cutting violent gestures in the air. "You got your perfectly obedient boy who'll do whatever you say, and won't ever come home with some mongrel Omega who is never good enough for you, or -- God forbid! -- a Beta with a brain in her body!" He slammed the empty tumbler down on the tray. "Is that it, then? 'I don't need you any more, you worthless piece of trash; don't let the door hit your ass on the way out'?"

"Tommy," Malcolm said sharply. "No." He got to his feet with a wince, and Oliver had to clench his muscles to keep from going to him. "Oliver is not going to replace you. In fact, I want you to take over Merlyn Global, because I'm planning to retire." He kept his voice soft, which seemed to calm his son somewhat. "If we can get you up to speed in the next seven months or so, the company is all yours."

Tommy's brows knit. He looked over at Oliver, that particular time span going through the gears of his mind. A male Omega couldn't safely carry a child to full term. The best practice was to undergo a Caesarian section after seven months and keep the baby in an incubator. Tommy's jaw slowly dropped. He turned back to his father. "You knocked him up!?" Malcolm winced. Tommy whirled on Oliver "And you! Jesus Christ -- what the hell were you thinking?"

Oliver cringed inwardly, since he hadn't been, really. He burned with shame at Tommy's look of disgust, but it wasn't his fault. It wasn't as if he'd gone on a bender and done something embarrassingly stupid. It was his biology. He had no control over it.

"Does he even know?" Tommy snapped.

"Know what?" Malcolm asked with a frown, making Tommy throw his hands up in exasperation.

"That I'm the Vigilante," Oliver explained.

"Oh. Yes, I know that."

Tommy gaped at his father, who still looked puzzled. Malcolm asked him, "How long have you known?"

"Since you were shot."

Oliver caught Malcolm's eye and quirked a brow in the silent question: _Does Tommy know about_ you?

Malcolm shook his head slightly, the worry in his eye and the set of his mouth telling Oliver not to mention it. Oliver nodded once and kept his mouth shut.

"This... is.... This is...." Tommy shook his head, finally at a loss for words himself. "You two... do what the fuck you're going to do. I can't handle this right now." He turned away, brushing off his father's protests.

"Tommy!" Malcolm made as if to go after him, but he stopped with a wince and put a hand to his ribs.

Oliver was at his side in an instant, holding him. "Let him go. He needs time." He guided Malcolm back to the sofa. "Rest."

"But--"

The Omega cut off the Alpha's protest with a forceful kiss. He pressed his tongue into Malcolm's mouth, licked at his lips with his calming pheromones. "He'll come around," he said after a minute or so of these ministrations.

"Will he really?" Malcolm asked, his eyes lowered.

Oliver caressed his face. "He will." He tried to mask his own doubt. This situation was not going to go down well with many people -- Tommy, Moira... Oliver's thoughts strayed to his former friends and comrades, Felicity and Diggle, whom he'd betrayed badly. Guilt assaulted him, but he refused to bow to it. He needed this. He needed to be bonded to a strong Alpha.

The truth was, he didn't know if he would survive without it.


	7. Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver comes to understand the reasons and ramifications of the Undertaking.

     Tears wet Oliver's face.  He lay in bed, tucked up against his Alpha's uninjured side, in the dark.  Malcolm explained to him, about Rebecca's murder, about his own guilt over it.  "I failed her."  His voice was a husky whisper.  "I failed to protect my Bondmate."  
  
     Oliver tightened his embrace on the man's waist.  Malcolm's own eyes were dry.  He had lived with the pain so long, he'd grown numb to it.  But Oliver could feel the hitch in his breath.  He knew how badly it hurt, and his own body ached in sympathy.  
  
     "It's my fault," Malcolm said, his voice growing thick.  
  
     "No, it isn't."  
  
     "I was her Alpha.  I should have been there to protect her."  
  
     Oliver rubbed Malcolm's arm soothingly.  "You can't be with someone all the time."  God, no wonder he had separation anxiety.  He was scarred more deeply than a man who had only suffered the breaking of a Bond.  "You just made one mistake."  
  
     A mistake Malcolm had been paying for ever since.  It was time he let go of the guilt and the pain.  It was past time for him to start a new life.  To live again.  
  
     Oliver rested his cheek on that soft, dark hair.  He was determined to make his Alpha happy.  
  
     After some time spent in silence, Malcolm said quietly, "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't talk about--"  
  
     "No, it's all right.  I want to understand."  
  
     "If you don't think I'm worthy to be your Alpha...."  
  
     Oliver lifted his head to look into his face.  "Malcolm, you're the strongest Alpha I know."  Probably the only Alpha who could tame an Omega like Oliver.  This thought sent a thrill of excitement through him -- and trepidation.  Malcolm could dominate him.  As an Omega, Oliver would become utterly subservient to his Alpha, obedient and submissive, allowing Malcolm to run both their lives.  
  
     All his life, Oliver had loathed the thought of his nature making him so weak, but now...  Now it held a strange allure.  
  
     He tightened his jaw. He couldn't allow that to happen.  He had to stop the Undertaking.  He had to oppose Malcolm on this.  
  
     "What's wrong?" Malcolm asked him, sensing his agitation.  
  
     "Nothing."  Oliver forced his body to relax, his heart to slow.  "What happened to the man who shot her?"  
  
     Pain crossed Malcolm's face again.  "They never found out who did it."  
  
     Damn.  No wonder Malcolm had escalated to leveling the entirety of the Glades.  He was mad with the need for vengeance.  Oliver's throat closed.  He had to turn Malcolm off this path of destruction, but how?  It almost made sense.  
  
     Malcolm put his hand on Oliver's neck, soothed him with calming strokes.  Right on that spot where he'd bitten Oliver during their rut.  The very spot that triggered his Omega reflex.  Oliver felt his body responding.  "We will avenge her," he said softly.  "I promise."  
  
     Malcolm turned Oliver's head and pressed his lips to his mouth.  They kissed longingly.  Then Malcolm drew back, his hand caressing Oliver's cheek.  "You'll help?" he asked with need glistening in his eyes.  
  
     Heaven help him, but he truly wanted to.  Oliver nodded.  "I will."  
  
     Malcolm smiled, and it was as if all his pain had been washed away.  He settled back on the pillows.  "When the Undertaking is complete, Rebecca's soul will finally be at peace."  He draped an arm over Oliver's stomach and began telling Oliver some of his plans and hopes for the future.  His voice was so light, so animated, Oliver couldn't break his spirit.  
  
     There was still time to figure out what to do.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. At Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can be done when words can't solve a conflict between a Bonded Alpha and Omega?

     Oliver didn't want anything to disturb Malcolm's recovery.  It wasn't long before the Alpha was back on his feet, and back at work, despite doctor's orders and what his Omega thought best.  Malcolm was strong, Oliver realized.  Not just in muscle, but in his ability to withstand pain and damage, and to heal.  He was glad not to be fighting this formidable opponent any longer.

  
     Yet, the shadow of the Undertaking loomed.  Oliver had to confront him.  Tonight.  
  
  
  
     He waited in the foyer for Malcolm to get in, to put down his briefcase, his laptop bag.  The Alpha's eyes lit up, and he came over and enfolded Oliver in a hug.  Malcolm nuzzled his neck, taking in his scent.  Oliver couldn't help inhaling deeply, though tonight the presence of his Alpha didn't temper his anxiety.

     Malcolm must have felt the tension within him.  He pulled away, looked into Oliver's face with concern.  "What's wrong?"

     "I...."  Oliver looked away from that intense gaze, gathered himself.  "I need to talk to you about the Undertaking."

     "Good."  Malcolm brightened again.  "Everything is in place; the remote system is online."  He gripped Oliver's arms in excitement.  "Tonight.  We'll finish it tonight, and then you and I will be together.  We can rebuild this city."

     Already?  Malcolm hadn't wasted time picking up where he'd left off the night of their fateful fight.  Oliver pulled back.  "No."

     "Why not?  What's wrong?"

     Oliver gritted his teeth and shook his head.  " _This_ is wrong.  The Undertaking is wrong.  We can't....  I can't let you go through with it."

     "What are you talking about?"  Confusion and hurt animated Malcolm's face, quickly morphing into anger.  "I have planned this for years.  You said you would help me.  You promised!"

     "I said I would help you avenge Rebecca's death.  Leveling the Glades is not the way to do that."  He met the Alpha's hard gaze.  He wouldn't drop his eyes.

     "Oliver, I'm doing what's best for this city.  You know that!  You've been down there; you've seen what it's like."

     "Slaughtering hundreds of innocent people is _wrong_."  He raised his voice, daring to use this gambit.  "It's not what Rebecca would want."

     "They are not innocent!  They deserve to die!"

     "They are not responsible for her death."

     "They didn't help her!  They ignored her pleas!"

     The same way Malcolm had ignored her call.  Oliver could see now the logic in the man's mad plan.  He felt the cruelty and injustice of the word, but he could not allow it to escalate.  "I will not help you."

     "Fine," Malcolm spit.  "I don't need your help.  I'll do it myself!"

     " _No_."

     The two men faced each other in the silence following that word.  Oliver clenched his jaw, his entire body tense.  Malcolm snarled.  "You think you can stop me?"  He stepped forward, his head lowered in a predatory attitude.  "We both know you can't beat me."

     Oliver swallowed.  He lowered his eyes.  "No, I can't," he admitted.  "But I can leave you."

     He did see the momentary flash of panic in the Alpha's eyes; he even felt a stab of pain.  He knew he was hurting Malcolm.  He hated it, but he would still do it.

     Malcolm firmed his resolve.  "You can't.  You can't break the Bond.  If you leave--"

     "It will hurt, I know," Oliver finished calmly.  "I don't want to hurt you, Malcolm; I swear I don't.  But I will stop you.  I will walk out of here and I will disappear into the Glades.  You'll never find me."

     "And you think it won't hurt you?"  The Alpha's teeth flashed as his lips drew back.  "You have no idea what it's like to be without your Bondmate!"

     "You think I don't know about pain?"  Oliver stepped up to Malcolm.  "I spent _five years_ on that island, with no hormone blockers, no pain pills.  I have suffered through the racking pain of countless heats, writhing in the mud and dirt on that island, just _praying_ a pack of Alphas didn't find me while I was helpless."  He knew he was throwing Malcolm's guilt back in his face, using it as a weapon against him.  It sickened him, but he did it anyway.  "Do not underestimate me," he growled.

     Malcolm's strength wavered.  "Don't go." 

     "Give up the Undertaking."

     "I can't."

     "Then I can't stay."  He moved to brush past Malcolm, but the Alpha caught him -- not in a fighting hold, but in an embrace.  Oliver thought the Alpha would try to breathe in his scent, to try to stave off the separation reaction, but he just held Oliver for a minute.

     Malcolm pressed his forehead to Oliver's, his eyes closed.  One hand gripped the back of Oliver's neck.  "Don't go," he whispered.  "I need you to stay here with me."

     The strong scent of his Alpha washed over Oliver.  The hand on his neck pressed firmly, forcing his head down.  His resolve weakened.  He should stay.  Surely, they could talk this out....  Oliver felt an instinctive need to submit to his Alpha's wishes -- and suddenly realized Malcolm was _scruffing_ him, triggering his Omega response!

     He snapped his head up and forcefully slapped Malcolm's arms away.  He kept his own arms in close, in a defensive posture.  "Are we going to fight again?"  His eyes bored into the Alpha's.

     Malcolm only held his hands outspread, unthreatening.  Waiting for Oliver to attack.

     Oliver swallowed.  He would have to commit.  Could he attack his Alpha?  Would Malcolm kill him?

     Then Malcolm finally moved aside, dropping his hands, dropping his gaze.  Oliver moved past him.  "Don't try to find me."  He yanked the door open.

     "Oliver--"  The pleading tone in his Bonded's voice almost undid him.

     "And don't drop a city on me!"  He stormed down the steps and turned to get his motorcycle from the garage.  He had to get away, as quickly as possible, while he still had his resolve.

     Malcolm stood in the doorway.  "You'll be back, Oliver!" he shouted.  "It's the Bond.  You can't fight it!"

 

 


	9. Separation Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The separated Alpha and Omega suffer without the presence of their Bondmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the last chapter when it came out... I have changed it. I found my original draft for that chapter, and it was MUCH better than what I had put in when I published. The same thing happens, but with a bit more conflict.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be in three parts. Well... screw that. These segments were difficult to put together and took, sadly, forever. The next few chapters are going to come in a big roller coaster rush, so your patience will be rewarded!

_Two Days_  
  
     Oliver sat in his room of what could colorfully be described as a fleabag hotel.  Not the luxurious accommodations playboy billionaire Ollie was used to.  But hell, after Lian Yu, this place was downright homey.

     It had its advantages.  It took cash, didn't need ID, and rented by the hour.  Most of all, it was in the Glades, and Malcolm wouldn't dare unleash the Markov Device tonight.

     Oliver stared at the colorless wall.  He ached with emptiness where the Bond anchored to him.  It physically hurt.  Not as badly as the heat, not yet.  It urged him to action, to seek out his Bondmate.  It cried out in loneliness and fear, wanting to find security with his Alpha.

     He turned a burner phone over and over in his hands.  He couldn't call.  Not now; he'd made a rule that he wouldn't call Malcolm after he'd gone to roost.  It didn't matter how much he longed to hear his lover's voice, to close his eyes and pretend Malcolm was there, speaking into his ear, it wouldn't make the pain go away.  Sound wouldn't work.  Only scent.

     Damned pheromones.

     He put the phone away and lay down on top of the bed.  He needed rest, though the best he could hope for was a long night of tossing and turning.  
  
  
  
 _Three Days_  
  
     Malcolm grabbed his phone when the unknown number flashed across the screen.  "Where are you?"

     " _I'm staying in the Glades._ "

     "It's not safe."

     " _Why, is there going to be an earthquake soon?_ "  Damn that boy's flippant tone!

     "You get out of there," Malcolm growled, issuing orders to his Omega.  "You come home.  Do you hear me?  The Undertaking is poised to happen.  Nothing can stop it, now."

     " _You'll kill me.  You'll kill the baby._ "

     "Damn you, Oliver!"  
  
  
  
 _Five Days_  
  
     "Are you in the Glades?"

     " _Why, is there an imminent earthquake I need to worry about?_ "

     Malcolm bit down on his ire.  "Oliver, if you would just be reasonable, we could discuss this."

     " _I'm not the one being unreasonable, Malcolm!  And we did discuss it.  You won't admit you're wrong._ "

     "You know my reasons--"

     " _Your reasons are wrong!  There's no point trying to discuss anything until you admit that.  And I'm not letting you trace this call.  Goodbye, Malcolm.  I love you and I need you, but I am_ not _coming home._ "  The phone clicked and went dead.

     Malcolm clenched his teeth, grinding them hard against one another.  He gripped the phone, but set it down very carefully, gently.  Rage and pain burned through his core.  How dare Oliver try to blackmail him through the Bond!  It twisted him up inside, and God, it hurt, but he wouldn't give in.  He had his morals, and he would not surrender them to some base physical desires of the flesh.  
  
  
  
 _Eight Days_  
  
     "Where are you?"  Malcolm paced with the phone, in his penthouse office.

     " _I'm still in the Glades._ "

     "Come home.  Please."  Issuing orders hadn't worked.  He was reduced to pleading.  "It's not safe for you to be there."

     " _Stop sending your Alphas to hunt me down, Malcolm.  It's dangerous, for me and for the baby._ "

     "They have instructions not to harm you."

     " _That's going to be difficult when I keep fighting them._ "

     "Oliver, please--"

     " _Are you willing to talk this out?_ "

     He ran a shaky hand over his face.  "I can not put aside everything I've worked so hard for."

     " _It's wrong._ "

     "I need this."  Malcolm closed his eyes.  He needed his Bondmate, but he wouldn't admit to that.  He wasn't that weak.

     " _You have to stop it._ "

     "How long do you think you can stand to stay away?" Malcolm snapped, goaded by his Omega's stubbornness.  "You _need_ me.  Our child needs my protection.  You know this!"

     " _The people of Starling City need my protection.  It's true: this hurts me as much as it hurts you, but I have been living in pain for so long.  I spent_ years _on that Island, isolated from everyone I loved, with no hope of rescue, with no hope of relief._ "

     Guilt flooded him.  He turned away from the window, from the glittering lights of the dusk-laden city.  "I'm so sorry."

     " _This is what you made me, long before you made me your Bondmate._ "

     "Oliver, _please..._ "

     " _Are you willing to listen?_ "

     "Yes."

     " _You'll bring me the Markov Device, so I can destroy it._ "

     "I...."  And the words stuck in his throat.  Why couldn't he say it?  Even to lie?  He could not speak the words that would damn Rebecca to a meaningless, unavenged death.

     " _I'll call you again tomorrow night._ "

     "No!  Don't--!  Oliver?  Oliver, please, don't...."

     The phone was dead.  
  
  


 _Ten Days_  
  
     Oliver's hand shook as he dialed.  He tried to calm his breathing, his palpitating heart as he waited for the call to connect.  This had to be it.  Malcolm had to listen.

     " _Where are you?_ "

     "I'm safe."

     " _Won't you come home?_ "

     "Maybe....  I want to talk to you, about revenge."

     There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.  Oliver imagined Malcolm tamping down his hope, licking his lips in hesitation.  " _I'm listening._ "

     "I understand your need for revenge."  He truly did, that was the damnable thing.  "I need revenge, too."

     " _For what?_ "

     "You killed my father."

     Silence stretched thin.  Now Oliver licked his lips, hoping, praying, this gambit would work.

     " _You want to kill me?_ "

     "No.  I want something else in return for the death and suffering you caused."

     " _I... well, Oliver..._ "  There was a deep breath over the line.  " _I am willing to consider turning myself over to you, for whatever punishment you deem appropriate._ "  Good, he understood.

     Oliver took a steadying breath, tried to keep his voice level.  "In retribution for your acts against my father and myself... I want you to give up the Undertaking."

     Again, the silence.  Oliver closed his eyes, clenched his teeth.

     And then, quietly, in pain, " _I can't._ "

     "Damn you, Malcolm!  What will it take to make you give this up?"

     " _Oliver, you have to underst--_ "

     "No!  No, I don't have to understand!  You think about this, Malcolm!  You think about what I'm asking of you, and then think long and hard about what you're asking from me!"  With that, Oliver turned in the direction of Merlyn Global tower downtown and hurled the phone into the river.  He put his hands over his face and walked away.  
  
  
  


     This went on for quite some time.  Two men, too stubborn to give in, too strong to be beaten by pain, too solid in their convictions to bend.

     Twelve.  Oliver peered at the time and date on his burner phone.  It had only been twelve days.  Not even two weeks!  He'd stopped going to the fleabag hotels in the Glades.  They took one look at his dilated pupils, shaking hands, sweaty skin, and pegged him as a junkie, twitching for his next fix.

     He ended up in flop houses, crack dens, among the dirty, damaged dregs of society.  The ones Malcolm wanted to eradicate.  Oliver broke the necks of the two dealers who'd offered him drugs in exchange for sex.  He didn't regret it one bit.  Some other cockroaches would crawl out of the filth to take their place soon enough.

     He huddled on the shit-stained mattress he had claimed for himself, cleared of used needles and plastic wrappers.  He clenched the phone, wanting to call, _needing_ to hear his Alpha's voice.

     No, no, no.  Night had to fall.  He had to drag himself through the hours of darkness, twitching in a fitful half-doze.  When dawn came, he could make the call.  He could leave, ditch the phone, and start all over again.

  
  
  
     Malcolm's limousine rolled through the Glades, garnering looks and raised eyebrows wherever it went.  Up and down the streets.

     He saw the various people of the Glades.  The street punks, to be sure; the hookers.  But in the afternoons, he could see the women with strollers, going to the store.  Kids coming home from school, playing and laughing.  An old couple holding hands.  A young couple blushing at each other's shy smiles.

     But he never saw the one thing he wanted to see -- his Omega.

     With shaking hand, he punched a number into his phone.  He took a breath and waited while it rang.  He didn't dare hope--

     " _This is Ollie.  Leave a message._ "

     Malcolm swallowed.  "Oliver.  I don't know if you're checking your messages here, but... I don't have any other way to reach you."  Dammit, he'd vowed to keep the waver out of his voice.  "Please, call me.  You win."  He put a hand over his face.  "Please call me.  I need you... I need you to come home."

 

 


	10. The Markov Device

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has agreed to capitulate to Oliver's demands. He arranges a meeting to hand over the Markov Device for destruction.

     Oliver guided his motorcycle through the shipping yard, then parked it a few feet behind the limousine.  He cut the engine and lifted the helmet from his head, resting a moment to look over the situation.  If Malcolm wanted to overpower him, chain him up in the basement and keep him like a dog, this would be the perfect set-up.  Dozens of men could be hidden in the maze of crates and shipping containers, and there was no one to hear any fighting and shouting.

     His scalp prickled, the instincts formed on Lian Yu telling him he was in dangerous territory.  Familiar ground to a pack of Alphas, foreign to him.  He shook it off and took a breath deep through his nostrils.

     The only Alpha he scented was his.

     Oliver felt a pang.  Malcolm did not give away his affections easily.  The lonely ache of the Bond told him the Alpha cared for him deeply.  Malcolm would never betray a love like that.

     Oliver got off the motorcycle and turned to the open doors.  Malcolm was there now, standing, waiting.  Oliver felt the tug of the Bond urging him forward.  He resisted, as did the Alpha.  Malcolm was dressed casually today, in slacks and a polo shirt.  He looked... resigned.

     He watched Oliver approach, silent and still.  Oliver drew close enough to catch his scent again, and his heart squeezed in longing.

     Malcolm's gaze lingered on him, but he, too, had a will made of iron, and made no move to close the distance left between them.  After a moment, he turned, and with a slight motion of his hand, beckoned Oliver to follow him into the darkened warehouse.

     Oliver blinked to get his eyes to adjust as they walked some distance inside.  They came out between rows to a clear space where three innocuous unmarked crates sat.  Malcolm hefted a crowbar from a nearby shelf.  "It's been partly disassembled," he said as he attacked the first lid.  "I hope that's all right.  It's easier to transport."

     With the creak of wood and strained nails, he pried the lids off.  Oliver moved up to see the three pieces of the Markov Device;  a base, a control column, and then what must be the functional apparatus.  It was all machined parts, copper coils, electronic panels... Felicity might have been able to make head or tails of it if she were... well, still speaking to him.  He shrugged off that thought.

     It was replaced by another:  how was he going to destroy this thing?  Fire might damage the circuitry, but not the metal.  If the foundry were still in working order, he could have melted it down.  He could finish disassembling it, but that wouldn't prevent anyone with determination from putting it back together.

     Trust the powerful businessman to think of every contingency.  Malcolm brought over a large sledge hammer.  The broad head thudded on the concrete as he set it down.  Oliver reached out and closed his fingers over Malcolm's.  The man looked into Oliver's eyes.  "Malcolm, I know what this means to you."  He'd just given Oliver the tool to literally smash his dreams.  "Believe me.  I promise, we will find another way -- a better way -- to honor her memory."

     Malcolm's eyes darkened with emotion.  Swiftly, he looked away.  His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

     Oliver loosened his grip and let Malcolm's fingers slip from his.  He stripped off his jacket, then lifted the hammer.  It was brutally solid.  Designed for damage.

     Malcolm went to the first crate and pulled some of the pieces out.  He set them on the floor, then moved back, but he did not leave.

     Oliver glanced at him.  "Are you sure you want to watch?"

     The Alpha didn't look at him, not directly, though Oliver saw the flash of his blue eyes beneath his dark lashes.  Malcolm nodded.

     Oliver took a breath and stepped up.  Part of him still felt badly for what he was about to do to his beloved Alpha.  But he also realized this was the last barrier standing between them.  Once he smashed this misbegotten device, they would be free to be together.  His heart sang as he raised the hammer.  
  


 

  
  
     Plastic shattered, silicone circuit boards cracked and split.  Metal bent, deformed.  Bolts sheared off.  Copper coils flattened into crooked disks.

     Malcolm kept feeding pieces of the Markov Device into the arena, and Oliver lifted the heavy hammer again and again.  Exertion played along the muscles of his back and arms, his legs.  Sweat soaked this shirt at the top of his chest, the small of his back, long strips under his arms -- there were barely any dry patches left on it.  Above the smell of his own sweat was the musk of his Alpha.  He caught glimpses of Malcolm's eyes as they worked -- they were darkened, but with desire, not pain.

     No sooner had Oliver set aside the sledgehammer than the Alpha was on him.  Malcolm clutched at Oliver desperately, pressed his face to that wet shirt, drinking in his scent, drowning in it.  His hips rubbed against the side of Oliver's.

     Oliver braced his legs and wrapped his arms around his Bondmate.  He pushed and shifted until he could rub his own hardening cock against Malcolm's.  He fisted his hand in the other man's hair and strained to pull his head back.  Blue eyes flashed as the Omega dominated the Alpha.

     Oliver pressed his mouth to Malcolm's forcing his tongue between his lips, demanding a taste of him.  Malcolm kissed back, eagerly, hungrily.  Hands roamed hard bodies, scrabbling at that barrier of cloth.  Both men staggered to keep from falling over with the force of their passion.  Oliver got his hands on Malcolm's waist, gripped the belt as if he would tear the leather between his fists.

     Malcolm shoved against him, trying to push him away.  It took the Alpha a couple of tries, but he managed.  "Oliver," he growled, still only inches away, panting.  "Let's go home."

     Oliver wanted his Alpha, on him, _in_ him -- but he could concede that sex in a warehouse left a lot to be desired.  And the word 'home' sparked inside him, spreading warmth from his solar plexus to his balls.  _Home_ and _Mate_ were the two things that fulfilled the Omega desire.

     "Come on.  The limo's not far."

     Oh yes, that back seat of creamy soft leather....  Oliver about drooled, but his rationality was still gaining strength and trying to point out how awkward it would be to end up knotted there.

     So he steeled himself and said, "I can't leave my bike parked in the Glades."  He backed away another step or two.

     Malcolm seemed to have to wrestle with his own rationality.  Then he conceded.  "All right.  But ride ahead of us, so I can keep an eye on you."

     Oliver couldn't help the leer that crept to his lips as he imagined the view he'd give the Alpha.  Malcolm's face flushed.  
  
  


 

  
     Oliver's crack was absolutely soaked by the time they got home.  God, he hoped it didn't show on his pants seat.  He left his bike in the mansion driveway with the helmet and keys on it.  If they wanted it moved, they'd have to move it.

     The driver and any other servants that may have been around gave them a wide berth.  The musk of Malcolm's arousal was strong, and while his Omega found it intoxicatingly alluring, to anyone else it gave a clear signal:  dangerous Alpha.  Get between him and his mate at the risk of your own life.

     They made it to the master bedroom and shucked shoes and pants on the way to the bed.  Malcolm pressed him back on the mattress, mouth hungry on his, shirts rucked up so they could press skin to skin, belly to belly, chest to chest.  Oliver opened his legs to cradle his lover and rub his shaft against the Alpha's.  Malcolm pressed down, increasing the friction.  Oliver moaned and writhed in anticipation.  He felt a burning need to roll over and position himself to be mounted, but he was pinned by the Alpha's weight.

     Malcolm startled him by hooking arms under his thighs to lift his hips and thrust into him.  Oliver gasped as the sudden breach made him tense up.

     "Don't clench," Malcolm growled low.  Oliver tried to comply with his Alpha's wishes, but he found it difficult in this position.  Malcolm rolled him up further, spreading his legs and pressing his shoulders down hard into the mattress.  The Alpha thrust further into him, the copious amounts of slick lube helping.  The stretching, filling sensation on top of having his shoulders pinned sent Oliver into the Omega state, his head thrown back and eyes rolled up.

     When Malcolm was seated in him to his satisfaction, he eased Oliver's legs down.  He bent and kissed the Omega's exposed throat, not biting.  It helped Oliver ease out of the Omega state.  They weren't going to rut, they were going to make love.  Oliver's legs naturally wrapped around Malcolm's waist, ankles crossed to lock into place.

     Malcolm began thrusting in that long, hard rhythm of his, and Oliver groaned in appreciation.  He slid his hands up and down Malcolm's broad back, shoving the shirt up further, feeling the glide of skin under his palms.  He never dreamed he could embrace an Alpha like this while they fucked.

     Malcolm's hands stroked his ribs, teased the cloth of his shirt higher, then found his nipples and toyed with them.  Oliver moaned and squeezed with his legs.  He thrust his hips up because he wanted it harder.  Malcolm gave it to him.  He leaned in, pressing Oliver's balls between their bodies, sliding and rubbing against the underside of his shaft.

     And more, Oliver wanted more.  He clutched the Alpha, raked his back with his fingernails in demand.  His body rocked under Malcolm's thrusts, now coming faster.  He was clenched tight now, but the Alpha was not complaining.  He only thrust harder, until he was grunting with the effort.

     His breath puffed warmly over Oliver's cheek, and Oliver opened his eyes.  He found Malcolm looking down at him, his eyes unguarded, unclouded by restraint, revealing the depths of his emotion.  Malcolm lowered his head and kissed Oliver passionately as they made love, and Oliver became undone once more by the Alpha's compassion.  A spark flashed behind his eyes, under his breastbone, and in his balls.  His hips jerked and he came, spattering their bodies with his spend.

     Their breath grew ragged, and Malcolm had to break the kiss.  He leaned back, and with a deep-chested groan, he climaxed, pumping Oliver's body with heat and light.  His eyes went unfocused as the knot emerged, slowly it seemed.  Oliver felt it swell up inside him, wedged in the spot between his prostate and inner sphincter.

     Malcolm lowered his head with a sigh. Oliver wrapped his arms around him and encouraged him to settle.  He unhooked his ankles and let his feet come down to the mattress outside Malcolm's legs.

     They shared a lingering kiss, broken reluctantly when they had yet to catch their breath.  "I'm not hurting you, am I?"  Malcolm asked in worry.  "I'm not too heavy?"

     "No," Oliver reassured him.  He was strong.  And he liked the solid weight pressing on him, so real, so _there_.  His Alpha, protecting him.  That tug that had been paining him, the ache of the Bond unfulfilled, that cold empty spot inside his core now felt warm and filled.  Oliver felt his heart shift its beat to fall into rhythm with Malcolm's.  He could feel Malcolm's chest expand as he breathed.  He felt the knotted cock inside him, and his own soft cock pressed between their bellies.  The Omega had his Alpha -- he was content.  Oliver let out a rumbling sigh.

     When the knot subsided, they should probably get a shower, but for now, the sea of pheromones and the smell of sex comforted him like a blanket.

     Malcolm nuzzled against his neck.  His hand gently explored the scars on Oliver's flank.  Oliver let his left leg straighten, so the inside of his shin ran down Malcolm's leg.  The soft fuzzing of hair tickled against smooth skin, then the feathering of hair on Malcolm's lower leg.

     Oliver shifted his hips so he could keep stroking with his leg, bringing more skin into contact with Malcolm's, including the calloused sole of his foot.  He wanted to explore, to know every inch of the man's body.  His hands fanned over Malcolm's shoulders, his fingertips seeking the faint scars on his back.  He ran his palms over the ribs, followed the curve of the muscles into the dip of the spine in the small of his back.  Oliver's fingertips all met there in a line and he lightly scratched up and down with his nails.  Malcolm rumbled in enjoyment.

     Oliver took his time there, then continued over the muscled curves of Malcolm's buttocks.  The skin there was so smooth, so soft.

     "I want to get married," Oliver said suddenly.

     Malcolm picked up his head.  "You do?  You're sure?"

     Oliver smiled because he could feel the excitement running through the man's body.  "I'm sure.  I never want to be further away from you than I am now."

     Malcolm cocked a brow.  "That's... going to cause interesting complications."

     Oliver exhaled with a tinge of annoyance.  "Quit being logical when I'm trying to be romantic."  God, had he just said that out loud?

     Malcolm's lips quirked into an amused smile as he tried to suppress a chuckle.

     "In case you hadn't noticed," Oliver mock-growled, wrapping his leg over Malcolm's and cupping his ass tight, "I can feel every inch of your body.  Don't think you can hide anything from me."

     This time, Malcolm did chuckle.  Oliver tried to stay stern, but dammit, it tickled through his own ribcage.  They were going to send each other into fits of laughter if this kept up, but Malcolm rescued them again by smothering Oliver with a kiss.

     When they were too breathless for laughter, Malcolm lifted his head.  He combed his fingertips through Oliver's bristly hair as he looked into the younger man's eyes.  "And the baby?  You want to keep it?"  Worry creased his face even as he tried to hide it.

     "Of course I do."  Oliver's heart leapt at the thought of them together with their child.

     Tension flowed out of Malcolm.  "Good."  He smiled.  "I'll make the arrangements."

 

 


	11. The Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, with nothing to stand between them any more, Malcolm and Oliver can get married. Malcolm has a surprise for Oliver. But then, he's not the only one....

     Oliver was fussing with the knot in his tie.  He had reason to, he'd been out of practice with these things for five years.  More, really.  He'd never been a tie kind of playboy.

     Malcolm came up behind him and smoothed his hands over Oliver's shoulders.  The Omega couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of calm.  "It's fine," the other man insisted.  "What's gotten you so tense?"  He ran his fingertips down Oliver's shoulder blades.

     "Just... this makes it all so real."

     "The Bond is real.  This is just a piece of paper."

     "I know, but...."

     "I never figured you for a blushing bride."

     Oliver's face heated.  He covered by turning and bending to get his suit jacket.  "Well, I just don't know what to expect.  Is there going to be a branding?  A tattoo?  Ritual scarification?  Hey," he said, turning and fixing Malcolm with a stern look.  "I'm _not_ wearing any collar."

     Malcolm stared at him a moment.  Then he said, "Oliver, what kind of porn have you been watching?"

     "Well, that's how they did it in medieval times, isn't it?  I thought upper class families were heavy into tradition."

     "I run an international organization with branches on the forefront of telecommunications and micro-robotics.  Trust me, I've moved past the Dark Ages."  Malcolm took the jacket from Oliver's grasp and held it open for the young man to slip into.  "Just relax.  We're going to go downstairs; my lawyer has the papers -- you're sure you're satisfied with the arrangements?  You could have had your mother's lawyers--"

     "She does not run my life," Oliver snapped.  "I'm capable of hiring my own lawyers and making my own decisions"

     "All right."  Malcolm hitched the jacket shoulders up so they rode more comfortably, allowing Oliver full motion in his arms.  He reached around and smoothed down the front of the suit, a little more slowly and lingeringly than was strictly necessary.  At least for the suit -- Oliver didn't mind the extra soothing one bit.  "We'll sign the papers in front of three witnesses and a notary.  Then we'll all troop down to the courthouse where we'll go before a judge.  In front of our three witnesses, their two witnesses, and a gallery full of gawkers, we'll sign the court documents, and the judge will pronounce us legally married."

     All in all, Oliver thought, it sounded dreadfully boring.  The worst part would probably be the press conference afterwards, but at least he'd rehearsed what he'd say.

     Malcolm smoothed his shoulders down again.  "And then you'll drop your pants, bend over, and take it up the ass to prove you're my mate."

     "What!?"  Oliver whirled around so fast, Malcolm had to step back or risk an elbow to the ribs or a skull to the nose.

     "Just joking!"  Malcolm laughed.

     Oliver gaped a minute, then scowled and turned back to the mirror to button his jacket and smooth down his tie.  "Never knew you had a sense of humor," he griped.  Malcolm started to retort, but Oliver interrupted him.  "Actually, I still don't."

     "Come on, you should have seen your face."

     Oliver could see Malcolm's infectious grin in the mirror.  He looked so much younger when he smiled, and so much more devilishly handsome.  He turned around again and fixed the man with a serious glare.  "All joking aside, I expect you to bring me home afterwards, bend me over, and fuck me senseless."

     Malcolm's brows shot up.  "Oh?"

     "I may have let you cheap out on our huge wedding," he said, poking Malcolm in the chest, "but you are _not_ skimping on our honeymoon."

     "I wouldn't dream of it, lover."  He took Oliver in his arms and brought his lips gently to his mouth.  Oliver responded more aggressively, hungry for a taste of his true mate.  They pressed together, chest to chest, no doubt causing a lot of wrinkles that would require smoothing out later.  Oliver palmed Malcolm through his trousers.  He purred as the felt the beast stir under his hand.

     Malcolm pushed him back reluctantly.  "Easy, tiger," he said a bit breathlessly.  "We still have to get through that press conference."

     Oliver groaned.  "Did you have to remind me?"

     "Don't worry," Malcolm assured him, yet again smoothing the jacket over Oliver's chest.  "I have something that will distract you from that."

     "Oh?"  Oliver perked up.

     "Get your mind out of the gutter!"  
  
  


 

  
     The marriage agreement, the prenuptials, the wills, the insurance forms... piles and piles of paper went by, needing signatures, his and Malcolm's, and then the witnesses', and then Oliver's own lawyer's, and the notary's.  When that was finished, Malcolm gestured for his lawyer to pull out another document, this one blessedly thin.

     Malcolm took the papers and presented them to Oliver.  "And now, your surprise."

     "I don't like surprises," Oliver said apprehensively.

     "You'll like this one."

     Oliver's lawyer jumped in.  "Mr. Queen, I strongly advise against signing anything that hasn't been--"

     "Andrew," his colleague interrupted.  "Seriously."

     "Let him see it," Malcolm told Oliver.

     "What is it?" he asked, handing it in Mr. Brandenburg's direction without really focusing on it.

     Malcolm took his hand and looked into his eyes.  "It's the joint custodial forms to set up a trust fund for our baby."

     Oliver drew a sharp intake of breath.  It always caught him by surprise.  He didn't _feel_ pregnant.  He felt the same as he always had, the new life inside him too small, too unintrusive to be noticed.  And then every once in a while, like now, his hormones would ambush him, and he'd get all weepy-eyed.

     He looked into Malcolm's blue eyes and saw the depth of the Alpha's love and devotion.  He tried to say something, to thank Malcolm, to tell him how much this meant, how grateful he was.  But his throat closed, and he couldn't find the words.

     Malcolm seemed to understand, anyway.  His face softened, and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Oliver's cheek, just above the line of stubble.

     With a mumble of approval, the lawyer handed the form back.  Malcolm took it, and with one arm around Oliver's shoulders, set it on the table and signed it.  Oliver followed suit.

     Then the paper had to make its rounds, but the two men were too caught up in each other to pay attention.  Oliver felt a happy tingle in his belly.  _Great_ , his manly self griped;  _Next thing you know, we'll be poring over baby name books together._   He tried to roll his eyes at that, but the image of him and Malcolm curled up together in bed, snuggled in comforters and pillows, only made that happy tingle stronger.  And damn what people thought, damn girlishness and machismo, but Oliver _wanted_ to feel that happy, that warm and loved.

     There was a discreet cough.  "Mr. Merlyn, we don't want to be late for your court appointment."

     Oliver and Malcolm came up for air.  That's what it seemed like, as if they had been submerged in their own private world.  Malcolm smiled and handed Oliver a handkerchief.  Oliver dabbed at his eyes and mustered his manly mien.

 

 

     "This is going to be a mob scene," Malcolm told Oliver as they rode through the busy downtown streets.  "But don't worry, marriage mobs are generally friendly."

     "I'm used to reporters and paparazzi popping off flashbulbs in my face," Oliver scoffed, looking out the window, trying to see what lay ahead.

     "Don't punch anyone this time."

     Oliver snorted with humor.

     "Oh, and no mooning anyone, either."

     This time Oliver grimaced.  He'd been a college freshman and deliriously drunk during that incident, and he really wished everybody else's memory of it was as hazy as his own.  But then he saw an opportunity for revenge.  "I thought it was part of these proceedings for me to drop my pants and bend over."

     Malcolm laughed.  "You _are_ bad."

     Oliver reached over and ran his hand down Malcolm's thigh.  "You started it," he said, squeezing gently at the inside of his knee.

     Malcolm chuckled again and put his hand over Oliver's, encouraging the younger man to leave it there for the rest of the trip.  
  


 

  
  
     The Bondmates were in fine spirits for the mob.  Malcolm didn't have his bodyguards disperse them this time, but Oliver waited in the limo until they cleared a space for him and opened the doors.  He smiled and waved at the press, and for the most part, ignored the flashes dazzling his eyes.

     "We'll answer all your questions at the press conference afterwards," Malcolm was telling the crowd.  "Please, we don't want to be late."  He put his arm over Oliver's shoulders again, and Oliver wrapped his arm around Malcolm's waist.

     The bodyguards shoved gently and they started moving up the courthouse steps.  Yells of 'Mr. Merlyn Mr. Merlyn!' and 'Oliver!  Oliver!' filled the air, trying to catch their attention, get a good angle for the papers and magazines.  One note stood out from the rest, someone yelling, "Ollie!"

     He peered past the waving arms, cameras, and microphones, and spotted Felicity desperately trying to catch his eye.  "Ollie!"  She looked worried.

     Oliver leaned to speak in the ear of one of the bodyguards.  "Carlson, you see that blonde woman in the glasses?  Can you get her inside for a private word?"

     "Yes sir, Mr. Merlyn."

     Oliver was confused a moment, wondering if the man had mistaken him for Malcolm.  Then he realized, no.  In a few more minutes, he would _be_ Mr. Merlyn, Malcolm's husband.  His stomach did a slow roll.  
  


 

  
  
     Moira stood across the street, watching the proceedings from afar.  The tears in her eyes were not those of a mother at her child's wedding, but rather her child's funeral.  "I can't believe this is happening."

     Thea touched her elbow.  "Mom.  He's a grown man."

     "This isn't right.  That man... does _not_ belong with this family."

     "Is this because of the age difference?  It is the twenty-first century, you know."

     Moira shook her head.  "You don't like him any more than I do."  The only difference was, Thea didn't know why she hated Malcolm Merlyn.  It was probably an Alpha's instinctive reaction to another Alpha encroaching on their territory.  Because Thea had become the Queen family's only Alpha at such a young age, she'd developed quite an aggression.  Thank God she'd accepted Walter.

     "But they're Bonded," Thea insisted.  "You know, all that 'holier than sacred matrimony, more permanent than legal marriage' stuff?  It's got to mean something.  After all that Oliver's been through... he deserves to be happy."  She watched the couple for a moment.  "They do look happy."

     Moira frowned.  After all Oliver had been through, his emotions must have been easier to manipulate.  She closed her teeth with a click.  "I won't stand for this.  He is no longer my son.  I'm signing the papers."  Oliver would be wholly and fully disinherited.  No trust funds, no company shares, no distributions from the estate.  Moira hated to do it, but it was her last recourse.  She turned for the limo door.  "Are you coming?"

     "No, I'll get a cab back."  
  
  


 

  
     Oliver met Felicity in a corner behind one of the courthouse foyer pillars.  "Are you all right?  Is Diggle...?  How is he?"

     "Still not sure, yet.  He hasn't been able to speak."

     "Felicity, I'm so sorry.  Will you tell him for me?  Try to explain?"

     "You should tell him."

     "I can't."  Oliver shook his head.  "I can't face him.  God knows he probably never wants to see me again, and I don't blame him."

     "Be that as it may, or may not, be...."  She took a breath.  "That's not what I'm here about it's--" she lowered her voice even further-- "the Undertaking."

     He put his hands on her arms, moving close so he could speak softly.  "I told you I would take care of that, and I have.  The Undertaking is no more."

     "But the Markov--"

     "We dismantled the Markov Device.  It's destroyed."  He smiled, warming with pride at the sacrifice is Bondmate had made for him.

     Felicity was not smiling back.  " _The_ Markov Device...?  As in, singular?"

     His smile vanished like a ghost.

     "Oliver, there are at least three functional Markov Devices.  There was a smaller prototype that they used in the beta test.  And then two full-sized production models were fabricated."  She dug into her purse for a crumpled piece of paper.  "There's no record of where the prototype ended up, but the other two were shipped separately to different warehouses here in Starling City."  She gave him the paper with the data, and he took it numbly.  "But when I went there, I didn't find the devices.  And when I checked the holding companies that owned the warehouses?  They were subsidiaries of--"

     "Merlyn Global."  Oliver had been growing colder at each word Felicity was telling him.  Now, he felt an ember burning inside.  His jaw tightened.

     "I'm sorry."

     Without a word, he turned and stalked off.

     "Oliver!"

     The bodyguard stopped her.  "I'm sorry, miss, but you'll have to leave now."

     Oliver turned the corner, leaving them behind.  He spotted the door the their courtroom, shoved past a few people standing in a knot around the door, and marched towards the front, where Malcolm and his lawyer were chatting.  That ember inside him burned hotter every step of the way.

     Malcolm turned at his approach, a gentle smile on his face.

     "You lied to me," Oliver snarled.

     Shock replaced that smile.  "I--?  What?"

     He was not in the mood for games.  "How many Markov Devices do you have!?"

     Malcolm blinked, and Oliver knew the answer right there.  In a moment, the businessman recovered.  "I don't think this is an appropriate time to-- Oliver?"

     Oliver didn't bother with the rest of it, he was already sweeping out of the courtroom, ignoring the sea of gaping faces.

     " _Oliver!_ "

     He broke into a run, barely managing to avoid knocking people over like bowling pins.  He hit the front doors, swinging both open as he powered through them.  "Listen up!" he yelled to the loitering reporters.  "Newsflash!  The marriage is off!"

     Some of the faster ones had scrambled for their tools, snapped off some pictures, hastily turned on recorders.  He didn't care; he pounded down the steps as they came at him in a tide.  Others rushed out from the courthouse and down the steps in pursuit.

     He got to Merlyn's chauffeur.  "Push 'em back," he barked.  The man hastened to obey, whether it was his job or not.  Oliver crossed in front of the limo and jumped into the driver's seat.  The key was already in the ignition.

     He cranked the engine and hit the gas.  He peeled away from the curb, but not before the passenger side door cracked open and slammed shut, barely leaving time for someone to slip in.

     "What are you do--?" he snarled, then blinked at his passenger.  "Thea?"

     "What am I doing?  Aiding and abetting your theft of a limousine, apparently."

     Oliver put his eyes back on the road and eased off the gas before he was doing 60 in a 35 zone.  The light was red, so he pulled a right hand turn and put more distance between them and the courthouse.

     "Turn left up here," Thea told him.

     "You don't know where I'm going," he griped, though frankly, he didn't know either.

     "You need to go home," she insisted.

     "Mom does _not_ want me there."

     "Mom is about to sign papers to disinherit you for marrying Merlyn.  Since you just _didn't_ , I suggest you move your ass to stop her."

     "Thea, I don't care about that."

     "Well, you should!  You're currently worth 30 million, and about to go to zero -- _get in the left lane!_ \-- especially since you just dumped your marriage into another fortune."  She paused as they took the left.  "What happened there, anyway?" she asked less stridently.

     "Shit happened."

     "Doesn't it always?"

     "It's complicated, Thea."

     "I'm not going anywhere, Ollie.  We're in a moving vehicle."

     He sighed.  "He lied to me."

     "That's it?"  She gave him the gaping look of the 'oh my God, my brother is a total moron' kind.  "This lie was _so_ huge, that it is more important than anything else?"

     A lie that would kill thousands of people?  "Yes."

     Thea blew air between her lips in frustration.  "Okay, then."

 


	12. Intimidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver flees. Malcolm pursues him. Felicity gets caught up in the middle.

     Felicity raced to Diggle's hospital room.  "Did you see?  It's all over the news!"  She went to his side, picked up his hand as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.  "No, Oliver called off the wedding!"  She squeezed John's hand.  "I told you he wasn't completely stupidly submissively Bonded to that--"

     John was shaking his head.

     "Yeah, well, okay, I _may_ have said that.  But what I meant was...."  She took a breath.  "I knew he couldn't be turned to the dark side.  He's still the hero we know.  He won't let Merlyn win.  I told you that.  We're going to get that sucker!"

     Diggle shook his head.  He thumped a fist over his heart.

     The Bond.

     "It can't work," she insisted.  "Love can make people do a lot of crazy things, and the Bond can make them turn into hormonal whack-jobs, but there is no way -- _no way_ \-- Oliver would ever let Merlyn destroy the city."

     Diggle just shook his head again, and Felicity once more thanked genetics that she was a Beta.  She could not imagine dealing with heats and predatory mates.  Oh no, not submissiveness for her!  Though she could never picture herself as an Alpha, either.  What with those extensible dangly bits?  She shuddered.

     "Well, the Bond didn't eradicate his sense of morals, at least," she told Diggle.  "It can be broken, yet."

     He didn't look up, just shrugged in resignation.

     "You may not think so, but I choose to believe that the Oliver we knew is not just some mask hiding a sheep.  He will do the right thing, no matter what the cost."  Oliver was the Vigilante.  He fought people like Merlyn; he stopped them.

     "I'm going to go back to the foundry, I still have to try to find where the Markov Devices ended up."  She patted his shoulder.  "This fight isn't over yet."  
  
  


 

  
     Felicity was hard at work at the keyboard, a pen clutched in her teeth, when she heard the basement door.  Finally, Oliver had come to his senses!  She turned her chair, then froze as an unfamiliar voice called his name.

     "Oliver?"

     She jumped up from the workstation, hearth thumping.  It was Malcolm Merlyn coming down the stairs, dressed in -- was that black leather armor?  He was armed with a bow across his back, but his hood was off.  "How did you get in here?" her mouth blurted.  "How did you _find_ here?"

     His blue eyes fixed her, his brow creasing slightly.  "Knowing Oliver, it wasn't that hard to figure it out.  Where is he?"

     "He's not here."  Her eyes flicked towards the table where Diggle usually stood, wishing that he were here, or that Oliver would show up in like two seconds.

     Merlyn ignored her words and strode in the direction of her glance, mistaking it for a tell.  "Oliver?  I just want to talk.  Please."

     Felicity gaped like an idiot.  Then she grabbed her phone and hit Oliver's speed dial.  If you want a man to show up and rescue you, page him!  She muted the speaker and put the phone on the desk.

     "Really, he's not here," she called after the man in black.  He seemed to be sniffing around for something, but he was out of luck.  She'd had a lot of time on her hands down here alone.  Everything was scrubbed clean and freshly laundered.  Merlyn picked up the pillow from the cot and then dropped it back as soon he'd brought it to his nose.  The look of disappointment on his face could almost be comical.

     "You need to leave," she said, a bit more loudly so the phone could pick it up.  "You're not wanted here."  She edged towards the stairs, the closest escape route.

     He crossed back to her.  "Who are you?"

     "No one."

     "You were at the courthouse today.  You were talking to Oliver."  His icy eyes narrowed as he loomed over her.  "What did you tell him?"

     "Nothing!"

     "Where is he?"

     "If I did know, I wouldn't tell you."  She collected her resolve.  "You need to leave here.  Now.  Or I am calling the cops."

     Merlyn seemed to have lost interest in her; he kept scanning the basement lair, as if expecting Oliver to appear.  "And tell them what?"

     "That you murdered the Unidac scientists, for one thing."  That brought his gaze snapping back to her.  "I know all about your plans -- _We_ ," she amended, "know everything.  Now that Oliver sees the truth, he's going to stop you."

     His eyes flashed and in a moment, he had her shoulders in a viselike grip.  She squeaked as he pinned her to the wall next to the breaker box.  "Do you think," he rumbled, pressing down on her, "you can intimidate me?"

     Her only reply was another strangled squeak.

     Merlyn suddenly let go of her.  He turned and headed back to the workstation.  Her feeling of relief was short-lived.  Her heart thumped in double panic as she remembered she'd just been hacking into Merlyn Global's shipping and receiving records, looking for the trail of the Markov Devices.  If he recognized those screens...! _Screen saver, kick in!  Screen saver, now!_

     He got to the workstation, _right there_ , but he wasn't looking at the screens.  The phone!

     He picked it up, started to bring it to his ear, then frowned at it.  He turned off the mute.  "Oliver?"

     Felicity could hear the anger in Oliver's voice coming out of the little speaker.

     "I haven't done anything to--.  No, I--"  Merlyn's face lost its hard edge as Oliver yelled at him over the phone.  "I just want to talk, Oliver.  Please."  His demeanor had completely shifted from Alpha predator to supplicant.

      _Wow_ , Felicity's mind thought before she could slap it, _talk about Omega-whipped._

     Now Oliver's voice rose loud and clear.  " _You lied to me!  What were you thinking?  What did you think was going to happen when you went ahead with your plan anyway?  Oh, an earthquake destroyed most of the Glades, but that was just a_ coincidence, _because I know your only Markov Device was destroyed.  How stupid do you think I am?_ "

     "I wasn't going to use them."

     " _And you're still lying to me!_ "

     "No, I'm....  Please, just let me explain," Merlyn pleaded.  "Give me another chance."

     " _How can I ever trust you again?_ "

     Felicity cringed just from the fallout of the argument.

     " _I am coming down there.  If you're still there when I arrive, if Felicity is in any way harmed, Malcolm, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you!_ "

     "I told you, I haven't--"

     " _Put her on!_ "

     "If you would just--"

     " _Give her the phone, and leave,_ right now!"

     Merlyn turned, keeping his face averted, his hand out, offering her the phone.  Felicity unpeeled her fingers from where they were clutching a support strut, and timidly edged forward.

     Gingerly, she lifted it to her ear.  "I'm... I'm here."  She braced for another roar from the riled Vigilante.

     " _Is he leaving?_ "

     She flicked her eyes to Merlyn.  He looked torn, his eyes no longer icy, just hurt, and his face drawn with sorrow.  "Um...."

     " _You tell him to get the hell out of there._ "

     "Um...."  She opened her mouth, but all that came out was another squeak.  She put a hand over the phone and whispered, "I think you'd better go."

     Merlyn slumped in defeat.  Without another word, he ascended the stairs in weary resignation.

     Felicity took a breath and sat down in her chair before her knees gave out.

     " _I'm on my way,_ " Oliver said.  " _Just sit tight, Felicity.  I'll be there in a few minutes._ "

     "Um, actually... can you meet me at my apartment?"  She sat up, an idea bubbling to the surface of her mind.  "I think we need to have a serious talk."  
  



	13. Girl Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver have a talk.

 

     Oliver was pacing back and froth in front of her apartment building.  Hopefully, no one had called the cops.  "What took you so long?" he grumbled before she could admonish him.

     "I had to stop for ice cream," she said, juggling the bag and her purse to get out her keys.

     He took the bag from her.  "Ice cream?  Really, Felicity?  A dangerous Alpha threatens you, and you go out for ice cream?"

     "Trust me."  She fixed him with a serious look.  "You just broke up with... well, your life mate.  You _need_ Chunky Monkey."  His face fell when she mentioned the breakup.  "Come on."  
  
  


 

  
     She nudged Oliver to one end of the couch while she brought out the spoons, two mugs, and a bottle of Kahlua liquor.  "This will make you feel better," she said, from experience.

     "I can't have that."

     "Oh."  Felicity blinked.  It took her mind a few moments to catch up.  "Oh God, Oliver, I'm sorry.  I forgot."  She sat down next to him, one leg curled under.  "I... It's just... I can't really picture you being pregnant."

     He looked down, his face crumpling.  When he spoke, the gruffness was gone from his voice, replaced with a quiet, lonely mourning.  "My mother wants me to give up the baby."

     "Oh, Oliver."  Felicity set down the bottle and rubbed his shoulder as he started to cry.  She couldn't wrap her mind around wanting to have Malcolm Merlyn's baby, but it was clear it affected him deeply.  And she was his friend.  "Sweetheart, it's your body.  No one can tell you what you have to do."  She passed him a spoon.

     "Seriously?" he tried to gripe through the tears.

     She pulled the lid off his pint for him.  "Eat.  Do I have to spoon feed you?"

     He stabbed the spoon into the container and took a mouthful.  Felicity took hers out while Ben & Jerry did their magic.

     "This is so stupid," he said miserably, sniffling and taking another scoop.  "It's not even a baby yet.  It's hardly big enough to be a tumor.  I shouldn't feel this way."  He sniffed.  "Hormones suck!"

     Felicity ate slowly, letting the ice cream melt on her tongue.  The way Oliver was shoveling it into his man-sized mouth, he was going to need more than one pint.  She should have thought to get him a half gallon tub, but this was her first 'girl talk' with a guy.

     He went on, venting, while she listened.  "We had plans.  Y'know?  We talked about them.  Our future.  We were so happy."  His voice broke.  Felicity nudged the box of tissues towards him, but he mopped his face on his sleeve.  "Ma-- he... set up a trust fund.  For the baby.  And... all this time, he was _lying_ to me!"  He stabbed the pint so hard, the spoon stuck upright in it.  "That bastard!  That fucking, lying...!"

     "I know."  She patted his knee.

     "Why do I even feel this way?"  He swiped angrily at his face again.  "Stupid hormones!  Is that all love is?"  He looked at her, and she could see all the pain and uncertaintyin his eyes.  "It's just a damned chemical reaction!  So why does it hurt so much?"

     "Well, humans are complex organisms."  She scraped at her ice cream, hoping to unearth a big chunk of fudge.  Her mind went back to her college days, and late night discussions of philosophy and science.  "I never believed in 'love at first sight.'  Lust, sure, that's easy."  Just look at the rutting impulse, which she was mercifully spared.  "And I never believed in unconditional love.  To me, there has to be some kind of... something behind it.  Everybody says how irrational love is.  But I think somewhere in all that confusion has to be a core basis for it."  She looked up at him.  "I guess it's different for Alphas and Omegas."

     Oliver laughed bitterly.  "It's all chemicals.  And the Bond...."  His eyes went somewhere far away.  "It can be broken.  With more chemicals.  But it hurts."  His voice faded to a whisper.  "He went through that."

     "Malcolm Merlyn?" she asked gently, her curiosity piqued.

     "He lost his Bondmate.  She was killed."

     "I'm sorry," she said.  She didn't know why.  She didn't think she felt any sympathy for Merlyn, but Oliver sounded so sad.

     "She was killed in the Glades," he went on.  "He wasn't there to protect her.  That's... that's why all this is happening.  The Undertaking."

     "That's... a bit extreme for revenge, isn't it?"

     "You don't understand, how much it _hurts_ \--"  he pressed a hand to his chest -- "to lose the Bond.  It hurts, Felicity.  It feels like dying."  
  


 

  
  
     Malcolm knelt within his inner sanctum.  He had stripped out of his armor.  What use was it?  It couldn't shield him from this hurt.  His bow he'd put away.  Racks upon racks of weapons stood still, silent, useless to him now.  He could not fight this enemy.  It was inside him.  It _was_ him.

     He picked up the tanto that lay beside him.  He pulled the short blade, a little longer than his hand, from its sheath.  A warrior's last friend.  He held it for a while, watching the light glide along the razor edge, back and forth, as slight movement of his fingers tipped the weapon.

     Hypnotic as it was, it could not soothe his pain.  It rose up inside him, threatened to overwhelm his senses.  He took a breath to steady his hand, and placed the point of the tanto just under his sternum.  There.  That is where the pain resided.

     This Bond that had formed between him and Oliver, it was wrong.  The rutting had been an unfortunate happenstance, the result a confusion of chemicals.  It needed to be severed.  All he had to do was cut the anchor out of his body.

     Sweat prickled on his upper lip.  He hesitated, knowing the pain Oliver would suffer from the broken Bond.  Could he sentence his Omega to that hell?  He was still raw with guilt over Oliver's exile and ordeal on that island.  But he'd survived that.  He was strong.  He would survive this.

     Malcolm's hand was sweating, so he gripped the hilt until the braided ribbon dug into his palm.  One cut, and all the pain would bleed out, ebb away, and die along with him.  His Omega would be free.  
  


 

  
  
  
     Felicity now had new insight on the enigma of Malcolm Merlyn.  _My God_ , she realized, _to have that much loyalty -- that much love -- for a woman...._   And the way Oliver had been talking about him.  There was something there.

     There was a test, or so she'd claimed in college, to separate lust and infatuation from love.  Love _was_ rational.  It _did_ make sense.  "Oliver... why do you love him?"

     He looked up from the bottom of his ice cream container, his eyes red.  "What do you mean?  I thought it was obvious."

     "No, I mean...."  She flapped her hand in frustration.  "Forget the Bond.  Forget the sex.  Aside from all that, _why_ do you love him?  Is there no other reason?"

     Oliver frowned, wiped his nose with a tissue.  Felicity started to think she was wrong.  That's all this was, sex and hormones.  Then Oliver started speaking.

     "He... deserves to be happy.  Doesn't everyone?  All I remember growing up is how lonely he seemed.  Always... distant.  Like part of him was far away."  A tear rolled down Oliver's cheek.  "All this time, he's been hurting.  Feeling guilty.  God!  He doesn't deserve that.  He made a mistake, just one stupid little mistake, and he's been punishing himself ever since.

     "He's strong.  He's smart.  Hell, he even has a sense of humor.  Sort of."  A wry grin played at Oliver's lips.  "He has so much to give, Felicity.  To a mate, a child.  He... yeah, okay, he didn't do such a great job raising Tommy, but how could he?  Punishing himself all that time, never feeling he could deserve love."

     Oliver looked at her, his eyes intense with a spark.  "I can give that to him, now.  A new life!"  

     "Oh, my God!"  Felicity scrambled to her feet, tossing her pint to a startled Oliver.  She ran around frantically searching for her phone.  "Call him!"

     "What?"

     She grabbed the cell and shoved it at him.  "Call him, right now!"

     He just gaped at her.  "I can't call him."

     "Oliver, you really love him.  You _have to_ talk to him!"

     "He lied to me!  Not just any lie -- he kept the Markov Devices from me, he lied about stopping the Undertaking!"

     "You just said you could give him a new life," she insisted.

     "I could, but he can't let go of his old one!"

     "Give him a chance!"

     "How many chances does he get?  I am not calling him."

     "Geeze, Oliver, he just wanted to talk to you!"  She recalled Merlyn's haunted eyes.  "Give him a chance to explain--"

     "What, a chance to make up some excuses?"

     "To change his mind!  Dammit, Oliver, that can happen, you know."

     "He's too stubborn."

     " _You're_ too stubborn!  Stupid, pig-headed men and I don't care how much estrogen is in your system right now!  Oh my God, you are dense!  Haven't you ever heard of forgiveness?"

     Oliver chewed his lip in thought, but still didn't move to take the phone.

     She waved it at him insistently.  "Oliver, you love him.  You really love him."

     "But--"

     "Jesus, every couple has arguments.  You act like it's the end of the world."

     "An earthquake the middle of Starling City at least qualifies as a major disaster!"  Oliver dumped the containers on the coffee table and got to his feet.

     "Oliver."  Felicity used her quiet, no-nonsense, listen-to-me-or-I-will-kill-you-severely voice.  "You told me you would work things out with Malcolm, that there would be no Undertaking, because you would turn him around to see reason."  She stabbed the phone at him as if it were a knife.  "Call.  Now."

     He took it and looked at it stupidly.  "What do I say?"

     " _Now!_ "

     He dialed.

     "Just tell him you're willing to talk.  _And_ listen," she added as he opened his mouth to say something.

     He closed it.  He turned his attention to the cell as it began to ring through.  
  
  
  


 

  
     A single clear drop hit the blade and broke into a dozen pieces.  They shivered and danced as the tanto shook in Malcolm's hand.  He gripped it harder, but it wouldn't stop shaking.

      _I'm so sorry, Rebecca.  I failed you._   And Tommy.  Here it was, the end of his life, and he had nothing to show for it, but one failure after another.  _Oliver... I'm so, so sorry...._

     He grabbed the tanto in both hands and closed his eyes.  One cut -- one more pain, what would it matter?

     Then the goddamned phone started ringing.

     Malcolm gritted his teeth.  Fuck 'em.  The world would have to learn to get along without him.

     Then a sudden cold fear squeezed the breath from his body.  What if his Omega needed him?  Rebecca's voice echoed in his head, crying out to her Alpha, who would never hear her in time.

     He leapt to his feet, his heart in his throat; he raced to grab the phone.  "Oliver?"  He was so sure it was his Omega, he didn't bother entertaining any other possibilities.  "Oliver?  Are you all right?"

 


	14. Guy Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Oliver have a talk.

  
     " _Oliver?  Oliver, are you all right?_ "

     The panic in his Alpha's voice struck a chord.  "Yes, yes, I'm fine."  He hesitated then, unsure what to say.  Felicity started pantomiming and exaggeratedly mouthing words.

     "I-I... I'm ready to talk."  He turned away from the IT girl, because her charades were getting more insane.  "And to listen."

     " _Will you come home?_ "

     He closed his eyes against the longing behind that question.  Carefully, he said, "I think it's better if we meet somewhere... some neutral ground."  He made arrangements to go to a coffee shop downtown, then hung up.

     He turned and gave Felicity back her phone.  "Will you go with me?"

     "Me?"  She looked shocked.  Then afraid.  "What do you want me there for?  I'd just get in the way.  A total third wheel.  On, like, a motorcycle."

     "Felicity!" he cut her off.  "We're going to meet face to face.  That means pheromones.  I can't...."  He brushed his hand over his bristly hair.  "I can't trust myself.  God, just telling you about Malcolm's reasons and what he means to me, I'm half tempted to help him level the Glades just so we can be together."

     "You're not serious?"

     Preserving lives had been Oliver's priority -- innocent lives, anyway.  After what he'd seen, what he'd been through in the Glades?  Wiping out those drug dealers and junkies, gangsters and whores....  He shook his head slowly.  "I can't trust myself."  He'd thought he'd been mad at Malcolm, ready to break the Bond and call it quits.  But then he'd heard his Bondmate's voice, the concern, the fear, the willingness to protect....

     "No offense," Felicity said, "but the last time I tried to talk sense to you when you were all 'pheremonal,' you growled at me and nearly bit my head off."

     "Sorry."  He rubbed his face.  "So you want me to go alone?"

     "Uh...."

     That settled that.  
  


 

  
  
     Felicity wasn't sure she wanted to face Merlyn.  The man was a dangerous, deadly Alpha, a natural killer.  When she thought of the Unidac scientists, of all the people in the Glades, she truly hated the man.  But she'd seen him at his most vulnerable, the pain he was in.  Oliver had explained it to her.  And she couldn't let him face the Alpha alone.  He was right, he needed someone with a clear head.  A Beta female was as neutral as they could get.

     Or so she'd thought.  Then she saw Malcolm Merlyn in the cafe.  His head snapped up as soon as Oliver entered, but his eyes fixed on her.  Narrowed.  What was he thinking?  This was the second time tonight that he'd seen Felicity in close connection with Oliver.  Merlyn's nostrils flared.  Did he think she was having sex with Oliver?  Playboy, loose-with-women Oliver Queen?  Oh Hell.  Was he trying to smell it on them?  She really wished she'd had a quick shower before they'd left.

     Oliver's gentle, guiding hand on her back became a more and more insistent push as her feet tried to slow down.  By the time they got to the back table, Felicity was practically hiding behind him.

     "You brought...?"  Merlyn refrained from saying 'that woman.'  Just.

     "This is my friend, Felicity."

     " _Just_ friends," she added quickly.  Oliver gave her a look like 'what else would we be?' which really bruised her ego, thanks so much.  No wonder he had a bad reputation with women.

     Anyway, he slid into the booth opposite Malcolm and drew her with him.  The waitress came over and topped up Merlyn's coffee, then took their orders.  Felicity ordered for both of them, while Oliver sat in his seat, his hands held tightly down by his sides.

     He was trying to look casual, but she could tell by the odd hitch in his chest that he was trying to inhale more than exhale.  Men really _were_ like dogs, she mused.  The Alphas and Omegas a little more literally.  Trying to sniff each other out, read the invisible clues as to status, health, attitude.

     This went on until the waitress brought over their coffees.  Then the smell of the strong brew hopefully masked all the flying pheromones.

     Felicity took a sip from her steaming mug -- it was still too hot.  Oliver and Malcolm continued staring at each other, preternaturally still.  "All right, look," she interrupted, breaking their trance.  "I may be the clueless Beta at the table, with no idea what secret scent signals are going on, but I _do_ know that you two need to _talk_.  With, like, actual talking."

     "It's... not that easy," said Oliver.  He started to turn his head, but he still couldn't look away from his Bondmate.  Malcolm said nothing, but dropped his eyes to his hands resting on the edge of the table.

     "Yeah," she agreed.  "It's against the Boys' Club rules.  So it's a good thing I'm here."

     Oliver looked down at the table, but refrained from groaning out loud.

     "You may not realize this -- being hormonally Bonded and all -- But Oliver really loves you," she said to Malcolm.  He didn't look up.  "And... I think," she ventured, "that you love him, too.  How did you know it was him calling you?  I don't think my caller ID mentioned that."

     "How _did_ you know?" Oliver asked him.

     Malcolm looked up, his eyes guarded.  "I didn't _know_ , exactly.  I... I wasn't going to answer.  Then I was afraid you were in trouble...."

     "Like your wife," Felicity said.

     His eyes snapped to her with a sudden hurt look.  Then he turned them to Oliver, pain transforming into accusation.  Oliver looked away guiltily.

     Before Malcolm could descend into rage, Felicity said, "Oliver and I talked, about what was going on with him.  And why."

     This seemed to defuse the situation somewhat.  "You already knew about the Undertaking," Malcolm guessed.

     "Yes, but not the reasons behind it."

     Now it was Malcolm's turn to look down, to look... guilty?  "You couldn't understand."

     "What couldn't I understand?" she challenged him, but not aggressively.  "Love?  Loyalty?"

     "The Bond," he grated with a flash of his eyes.  As if a mere Beta didn't even had the right to talk about such a thing.

     "It's not the Bond," Felicity insisted.  She glanced at Oliver to see if he was ready to back her up if Merlyn became volatile.  He was watching from under lowered brows.  She looked back at Malcolm.  "Your Bond was severed.  Those chemicals aren't there any more.  All this-- " she gestured in circles with her forefingers-- "was done out of love."  As twisted as it was, it was still based in love.

     Malcolm scowled down at the mug in his hands.  "Or guilt?" he said tightly.

     "Why would you feel guilty for losing someone you didn't love?"

     There was only silence in the wake of that question.  Felicity hardly dared breathe.   And yet, perhaps....

     "If you look past the guilt," she ventured, ever so carefully, "maybe you will see that the Undertaking is not the answer."  A muscle jumped in Malcolm's jaw, and she slid very slowly out of the booth.  "Uhm... I think it's time for me to visit the ladies' room.  If you'll excuse me."

     She got loose and fled.  
  
  


 

  
     Oliver watched her go out of the corner of his eye.  He remained seated stiffly, holding himself still.  Malcolm seemed to relax a notch at her exit.  He unclenched his hands and laid them flat on the table between the two of them.  An offer to meet halfway.  Oliver himself did not move.  He kept his hands in tight, bloodless fists by his sides.

     "I'm sorry," Malcolm said, his voice soft and filled with hurt.

     "You lied to me."

     "I didn't mean to hurt you."

     "Just tell me why."  Oliver didn't know what he would feel when he saw Malcolm face to face.  On the one hand, he was sympathetic to the Alpha's loss and hurt.  On the other, there was his own pain at Malcolm's betrayal.

     "I was hurting.  I was scared," the Alpha confessed.  "I couldn't think of any other way to get you back."

     Oliver leaned forward.  "All you had to do was give up the Undertaking."

     "I _couldn't!_   I couldn't give up my last hope for putting Rebecca's spirit to rest."

     "I respect your need for closure, Malcolm, but do you want it at the cost of losing me?"

     "Oliver, I swear to you, I wasn't going to use the devices!"

     "Then why do you need them at all?"  This was so much bullshit, Oliver was tempted to walk out this instant.  Except Felicity wasn't back yet.

     "In case you changed your mind."  Malcolm pleaded with his eyes, but Oliver wasn't buying it.

     "I told you.  We would find another way."

     "What if we couldn't?  What if one day you realized this was the only way?"

     "What kind of man do you think I am, Malcolm?" Oliver snarled.  "Destroying a city, killing innocents?  This never was, and never will be, an acceptable plan."  There, he'd said it.  He'd drawn the line.  No more ifs, no more maybes, no more just in case.  No chance of him capitulating to the Alpha's desires.  This, more so than any sledgehammer, was the destruction of Malcolm's last hope.

     If he still couldn't let it go....  Oliver didn't know what he'd do.  His heart clenched.  It would be the end.  He would have to go crawling back to his mother, probably terminate his pregnancy.  If he even survived the sundering of the Bond.

     If he survived opposing Malcolm.  His heart lurched again as he faced the possibility of having to kill his own Bondmate.  Nothing less would ever stop this man.

     Oliver pressed his fists tightly against his legs, willing himself not to shake apart.

     Malcolm's expression remained stone, his jaw clenched.

     They stared at each other, unmoving, unyielding.  Eyes unblinking, ice blue against steel grey.  Oliver looked deep, deep into the man's soul.  Willing him to understand.  He felt Malcolm's will opposing him.  Pleading for his understanding in return.

     He did understand.  It was tempting, but he had to remain strong.  Not the submissive Omega, but the man who survived five years of exile, the fighter forged in hell's fires.

     At last, Malcolm dropped his gaze.  His frame slumped minutely, his shoulders rounding.  He looked away, his eyes shadowed.  "I...."  His throat worked as he tried to speak through overwhelming emotion.  "I can't... live without you.  And I can't hurt you."  He ducked his head further, ran his hands over his hair.

     Oliver moved, finally.  He extended his hands across the table to meet the Alpha's.  He squeezed them tight.

     Malcolm looked up at him.  "I can't live without you.  I....  The pain would be too much.  Worse than the pain of leaving Rebecca's death unavenged."  His voice cracked.

     "We will find a way," Oliver told him firmly, with all his conviction.  He had the advantage of youthful optimism.

     Malcolm lowered his head again.  He only had mature resignation.

     "I promise you -- and I don't make promises lightly."  But he could tell Malcolm still didn't believe they could do anything.

     The older man tugged his hands free and pulled a pen from his pocket.  He scribbled on a napkin.  "This is where the devices are.  There are only two of them."

     Oliver took the paper, read it over.

     "We can go there tomorrow."

     Oliver nodded.  He looked around for the IT girl, and saw her sitting at the counter, turned halfway away from the booth.  He could give the information to Felicity, and he could return home with Malcolm.

     He wanted to, so badly.  He wanted this to be over.  He wanted his home and his mate.  But the last time he trusted Malcolm at his word....  He pocketed the napkin and stood.  "I'll meet you there, tomorrow morning."

     He could see the hurt in his Alpha's eyes, hell, he could feel it stabbing him right through the solar plexus.  But it had to be this way.  He turned before he lost his nerve, determined not to look back.

     He collected Felicity, and they left.  
  
  



	15. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost over. Malcolm is going to turn over the last two Markov Devices, and then...? He and Oliver will try to find a way to go on. But first, there's an unfinished bit of business or two.

 

     Felicity buzzed about like the proverbial bee while Oliver sat and nursed his coffee.  He hadn't slept well there on Felicity's couch.  He'd been separated from his Alpha -- again.  You'd think he'd be used to it by now.  He'd been worried sick about today.  What if Malcolm lied again?  What if he were hiding something else?  On top of all that, how was he supposed to destroy two full-sized Markov Devices?  It all made his stomach clench.  At least... he hoped it wasn't time to start having morning sickness.  He cradled his abdomen.

     Felicity had settled down at the breakfast bar, tapping madly at the keyboard dock of her tablet.  After fifteen minutes or so, she jumped up.  "There, done!"  She came around to the couch and looked down at him.  Her way-too-cheerful-for-first-thing-in-the-morning smile vanished.   "Are you all right?"

     "I'm fine," he said.  Then, "I don't know."

     "Do you feel sick?"  She'd noticed his arm across his stomach.

     "No... I don't know."  He frowned at himself.  Making what she called his grumpy face.

     "Well, you should at least nibble on some toast and have some water."  She turned to get them from her kitchenette.  "And just so you know, I've arranged for the Markov Devices to be destroyed.  It's all set."

     "You have?"  Felicity was going to destroy them?  How had she managed that? 

     "Yep!  Just this morning, a work order came over the QC network for a truck to pick up the crates at the address you gave me.  They'll haul the devices to the Applied Sciences division, where they're slated to be demolished in whatever manner they generally use to dispose of industrial science stuff.  They recycle, I'm sure."

     A great stone weight lifted from Oliver's shoulders.  "Thank you, Felicity.  I don't know how I can thank you enough."

     "Stopping the destruction of Starling City should be thanks enough by itself, but...."  She smiled.  "You're welcome.  Now you can eat a bit.  Wash up, and we'll be ready to go."

     "Is it time already?"

     "We have some errands to run first."  
  


 

  
  
  
     Felicity drove him to the hospital.

     "What are we doing here?"

     "Errands."  She parked and turned to face him.  "You _need_ to talk to Diggle."

     "I told you--!"

     "He's your friend, Oliver!  He doesn't blame you for any of this!"

     Oliver flinched.

     "Remember you said you didn't know how to thank me?  Consider this part of the payment."

     He gave in.  He didn't want to do this, but Felicity deserved to know the truth now rather than later, and John... deserved an apology.  It was time for Oliver to stop being a coward and face him.

     His stomach knotted again.  
  


 

  
  
  
     Felicity went to Diggle's bedside straight away.  "Guess who I brought," she said with a smile.

     Oliver hovered near the doorway.  Diggle's face was barely recognizable, but his eyes darkened as they sought out Oliver.  The man struggled to sit up, his forearm muscles taut as he pulled at the bed rails.

     "Easy, Digg," Felicity chided, helping him as best she could.

     Diggle made a harsh, strangled sound in his throat, then coughed.  Felicity got him a cup of water.  Then he managed to grate out, "You got... lotta nerve, coming here."

     "Digg," Felicity said with a sympathetic frown.  "It's not his fault."

     Oliver moved to her side.  "Yes, it is."

     "It is _not_ your fault that two Alphas got into a pheromonal frenzy--"

     He squeezed her shoulder in an effort to slow down the flow of words.  "Malcolm didn't do this."

     "--even if some of them _were_ your pher--"  She blinked.  "What?"

     She looked at him, and he slid his gaze sidewise to look at her, but the words stuck in his throat, chained by guilt.

     She stared, her lips parted, her eyes narrowed in confusion.  It didn't take her mind long to come to the proper conclusion.  "You did this."  Her eyes slowly widened as her jaw dropped further.  "Why?"

     "I wasn't thinking."  It sounded like a lame excuse to his own ears.  He took a breath and looked at Diggle.  "John... when I attacked you, I was an animal.  No thought... no control... it was pure instinct."  He swallowed and kept going.  "Now I am a man.  And I know... there is no apology that can ever make up for this."  He bit his lip a moment to still its trembling.  "But I swear to you, I will do anything -- I will do everything to make this right.  I've already settled your medical bills.  Whatever else you need, rehab...."

     "I don't want your charity," Diggle growled.  He looked away in disgust, as if Oliver were just some rich weasel trying to throw money at a problem to make it go away.

     "What do you want?" he asked mildly.  "To go public with the truth?  Get me arrested?  Sue me for damages?  To create a huge scandal and drag me though the mud?  If that's what you want, go right ahead.  But it won't be much of a lawsuit.  Whatever settlement you want, it's yours."  Again, it sounded like some rich twat offering a small fortune without it even making a dent in his wallet.  But he meant it.  What else could he do?

     "Go to Hell."

     Felicity put a hand on Diggle's arm.

     Oliver nodded, his head down, chewing his lip and making the bristles below it stand out.  "I understand."  He started to turn away, but something stopped him.  Since he was damned anyway....  "There's something I need to know."  He looked Diggle in the eye again.  "When you came in there, I told you to stand down, put the gun away.  Why didn't you?"

     Diggle chewed on his words a moment.  Felicity remained silent, her hands still on his arm.  Then the anger and rage within Diggle's eyes changed.  It didn't lessen, but... shifted focus.  Then Diggle said darkly, "He raped you."

     "No, that's not what--" Oliver started.  Then it clicked.  "But you couldn't have known that.  Because I lied to you.  About being a Beta.  God, I'm so sorry."  It was all his fault, everything.

     "You should have told me."

     He should have trusted Diggle.  "I didn't mean to deceive you, it was just... a habit."

     "I could have protected you better."

     Another wave of guilt flowed over Oliver, but then he braced against it.  "Protected me better?  Better than  bodyguard?  Better than my friend, my brother soldier?"  He frowned and Diggle remained silent.  "What, you mean like an Alpha protecting an Omega?  Because I'm just that weak and helpless, I can't walk down the street without getting gang raped?"

     "Oliver," Felicity warned him.

     "No, how was he going to protect me better?  By locking me away, keeping me home where I couldn't get my delicate little Omega self hurt?"  Felicity tried to stop his tirade again, but he overrode her.  "This is the kind of thing that makes me glad my parents were so ashamed of me being an Omega male that they lied to everyone about it, that they covered it up, and made me cover it up, so that everyone thought I was a plain old Beta, capable of thinking for myself."

     He took a breath, trying to steady himself.  Felicity had a point, but _dammit!_   "John... I'm sorry this happened to you.  I have said my apology.  I have done what I can to help make it right.  But I will not apologize for living my life, for doing what I had to, what I believed was right."  He turned away.  "If you need anything else, you know how to contact me."  
  
  


 

  
  
     Felicity bit her lip and squeezed Diggle's arm again.  Oliver... had a point -- now wasn't a good time to blow up and go on a rant about it, but... there it was.

     She hadn't realized the extent of this fracture in Oliver and Diggle's friendship.  She didn't blame Diggle for being angry.  Oliver... Oliver had done this, to his best friend, his closest ally in the world.  Of course it hurt.  All of them.  But she had rationality on her side.  

     She hadn't been there, entangled in events.  She could see them from an outside perspective.  Yes, Oliver had beaten Diggle to a pulp, but he hadn't wanted to.  He hadn't been in control, and if Diggle had attacked Merlyn....  She shook her head.  No one was to blame.  Or everyone was.  God, what a mess.

     "Are you going to?" she asked Diggle quietly.

     He looked at her, puzzled.

     "Bring him up on charges.  The whole thing."

     He looked down, shrugged.  "I don't know."

     "It's best not to decide now, anyway."  She patted his arm one last time before releasing him.  "I have to go.  Markov Devices to destroy and all.  Despite everything, Oliver did manage to stop the Undertaking once and for all.  With help."  She went to the door and turned back halfway through it.  "Oh, and since you're talking, now... to the nurses and all, it would help if you called me your fiancee.  Just because... stuff."  She waved and ducked out.

 

 

 

     Oliver had Felicity stop by the Merlyn Global building.

     "Are you going to the warehouse with Mr. Merlyn?  I thought we were going to meet him there.  You can't dump me, I want to be there!"

     "Felicity!"  He derailed her train of thought so he could get a word in edgewise.  "No.  No, we'll meet just as planned."  He looked up at the glass and steel facade with a longing in his heart.  "I just have to see someone else here."

     "Who?"

     He looked at her.

     "If you don't mind me asking, I mean."

     "Someone I used to be friends with."  
  
  


 

  
  
     Oliver waited out in the hall while Tommy finished some meeting.  He didn't know what he was going to say -- there wasn't much he _could_ say.  Malcolm's secrets weren't his to tell.  But Tommy deserved some kind of explanation at least.

     He ducked in past the group funneling out of the room, and closed the door behind him.  Tommy looked up and scowled.  "What are you doing here?  Trying to humiliate me more?"

     He got to his feet and rounded the conference table before Oliver could do more than speak his name.  "You made it quite clear to the world that you suck at business and could never work in a corporate office.  So get the hell out of here, and never show your face again."

     "Tommy, whoa!"  Oliver backed up, his hands out defensively.  Tommy crowded him, nearly forcing him against the door.  He'd never acted this way before, going all dominant Alpha on him.  Oliver was going to have to keep investing in scent blocker and Beta cologne if this was the sort of thing he'd have to put up with as an outed Omega.  "I just want to try to make things right between us."

     "You can't," Tommy bit out.

     "If you'd just let me explain...."

     "There's nothing to explain!  You and my father...."  He turned away, face twisting in disgust.  "I can't even think about that without losing my lunch."

     "Will you just listen, for a minute?"  Oliver realized that no, he wouldn't, so he plunged on ahead.  "Your dad is in a lot of pain.  When he lost his Bondmate--"

     "Yeah, I was there!" Tommy snapped.  "I lost my mother.  Do you think he cared about my pain?"

     "Well, did you care about his?" Oliver shot back.  Tommy only snarled.  "Look," Oliver said, reining back, "you were both hurting, and you both did a lousy job of helping each other through it."

     "He left me.  He wasn't even there to help, or to be helped!"

     "I understand, Tommy, I really do.  I remember."  He ran a hand over his hair.  "You spent the rest of your life resenting him, and hating him, and trying to be everything he did not want you to be, just to spite him."  Oliver took a breath.  "It's time you stopped all that and started living your life, your way.  As your own person."

     Tommy snorted.  He moved back to the table, leaned against it to direct his gaze out the windows.  "Live my own life," he growled bitterly.  "In my life, my father is fucking my best friend.  My _ex_ -best friend, who turns out to be some kind of rabid Omega running around killing people."  His voice heated with every word.  "You'll have to excuse me for not being too damned thrilled with my life right now!"

     "I am sorry.  About everything...."  Oliver frowned, a feeling of cold dread coming over him.  He blinked.  "Tommy... are you in love with me?"

     The searing, scathing look of hatred Tommy gave him almost hid the moment of pure pain.

     Oliver understood at once.  "I'm so sorr--"

     "I," Tommy interrupted loudly, "was in love with Laurel.  A beautiful, kind, caring, and _honest_ Omega.  But you...."  His lips twisted into a snarl.  "You had to court her.  Lying to her -- to everyone -- and using her to help keep up your masquerade, even though you knew it would be impossible for the two of you to really be together."

     Oliver raked his teeth over his lower lip, reading between the lines.  Carefully, he said, "I couldn't date you, Tommy.  You're an Alpha.  My parents told me I could never get close to an Alpha without my secret getting out.  This horrible, shameful secret that they drilled into me  had to be kept hidden at all costs."

     Tommy seethed.  He stalked closer.  "I... _pity_ fucked you, one time.  _One_ time, Queen!  Because you begged me, and I was drunk.  You think that--?  That does _not_ mean I-- I ever have, or-or ever will be in love with you!"  His words tumbled over each other as he struggled to spit them out.  "You...!  Your ego!  You know what?  You and my father, and your huge egos, you're just made for each other.  And you know something else?  You're right."  He suddenly went calm.  "It's about time you and he got the hell out of my life."  His face lost expression; his voice lost heat.  "Are we done here?  I have business to attend to."

     Oliver looked down, his shoulders rounding.  He cursed his parents for screwing up his life, but he had to admit to his part in it.  He didn't think Tommy wanted to hear any more apologies, so he turned and put his hand on the door handle.  But he couldn't leave his life-long friend, perhaps never to see him again, without saying something.  "I know you're angry and don't want to hear it -- I don't blame you.  But I am sorry for what I've done to hurt you.  I... You were always a good friend, and I was an asshole.

     "Someday... you might look back on this conversation, and find it in your heart to forgive me.  If you do... I hope you will call me...."

     Oliver took a breath.  "But for now, Malcolm is my Bondmate, and I have the chance to give him a new lease on life, a chance to know love again.  Maybe... it will make him a better person, and maybe someday you can forgive him, too."

     He stopped, his head down.  He couldn't see the expression on Tommy's face, and the Alpha said nothing.

     He pulled the door open and went out.

 


	16. It is Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the last chapter! There are two more, and those will be out shortly, because this sucker is DONE!

    Compared to the smashing of the first Markov Device, the destruction of the others was anti-climactic.

     Malcolm had opened the crates to show Oliver and Felicity that the devices were indeed in there.  Then Oliver had taken over directing the workmen in loading them up, as Felicity turned suddenly shy about bossing burly men around, and Malcolm...  Malcolm had struggled to maintain a glacial facade to hide his emotions.  Oliver could feel them, though, like the beating of his own heart.

     Finally, the trucks had pulled away from the loading docks and left the warehouse lot.  Oliver embraced Malcolm.  The Alpha held him, and Oliver could feel the slight hitch in his chest.  Then Malcolm stiffened and moved away as Felicity came over.

     She had a big sunny smile on her face.  "Well, there we go!  Congratulations, Oliver.  You did it."

     Oliver clenched his teeth, but at least she didn't come out and say he had thwarted the evil Undertaking.  Beside him, Malcolm tensed even more, if that were possible.

     Felicity turned to him, ignorant of the tension.  "And I want to thank you, Mr. Merlyn.  I know it wasn't easy for you, but you did the right thing."

     Malcolm looked as if he wanted to rip her throat out right there.  It had to be galling for the powerful Alpha business magnate to be defeated by a perky IT girl in bubblegum lipstick.

     Oliver moved closer to him and took his hand.  "Thank you, Felicity," he said tightly, to get her to shut up.

     Of course, that utterly failed to work.  She just continued on, obliviously.  "I know you said you wanted revenge, well, justice, well no, actually sort of revenge -- I mean, 'closure' for your wife's death."

     " _Felicity,_ " Oliver growled, this time showing his teeth.  "Now is not the time."  Malcolm was trying to pull his hand out of Oliver's grip, and Oliver wasn't ready to let him.

     The Beta looked carefully between the two men.  "Oh.  I didn't mean... but!  I think I can help?"

     The two stopped struggling, and Malcolm said, "Help?  How?"

     "As I understand it," she said carefully, "the police never found your wife's murderer."

     "No."  He looked at the concrete floor.

     "Okay, so the case is still technically open.  Which means all the evidence is still in some box somewhere, right?"

     "Yes."

     Felicity nodded and gestured with her hands.  "The... incident was, what?  Like twenty years ago?  Forensics have come a long way since then.  If the evidence is re-examined with modern technologies--"

     "The police won't reopen a cold case unless they get new evidence."

     "We don't need the police.  We have a Vigilante.  Who, I might point out, is not averse to a little B&E, for a good cause."  She glanced at Oliver.  "And we have a decent lab, that could be augmented as needed.  I can do DNA analysis, mass spectrometry, digital fingerprint reconstruction...."

     "You would do that?" Malcolm asked her, lifting his eyes.

     "Yes."

     Oliver felt hope surge within him.  They could solve this decades-old murder, find the guilty party.  If those TV shows were anything to go by, they could find this guy with barely more than a strand of carpet fiber and a grain of sand.  He saw the same hope light up in Malcolm's eyes.

     Felicity saw it as well and held up her hands.  "I can't promise anything," she insisted, putting the brakes on their enthusiasm.  "But we can try."

     Malcolm turned his gaze to Oliver, so full of hope and trepidation.  Oliver squeezed his hand.  "We can do this."

     "Can you forgive me?"

     Oliver tilted his head, puzzled.

     "Can you forgive me for the things I've done?  The things I tried to do? I..."  He looked away.  "I should have known better.  I should have realized that Rebecca would never have wanted people to die.  But I was so lost, and I didn't know what else to do."

     Oliver gripped his shoulders.  "I do forgive you.  For all of it."

     The Alpha met his eyes.  "I won't ever lie to you again.  I promise."

     "And I swear, I will never hurt you again.  We _will_ find a way; we will always find a way.  Together."  He smiled, slowly, happiness welling up within him and threatening to make him go hormonal yet again.  Malcolm's icy demeanor began to melt and he smiled hesitantly back.

     Felicity excused herself with something about him getting a ride home and not needing her.

      _Home._   Warmth spread over him.  _Mate._   He lost himself in Malcolm's eyes.  
  


 


	17. Delayed Gratification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that, the Bondmates can finally be together!

     Malcolm did indeed have a ride home for Oliver.  The creamy leather of the limo's back seat was even more sinfully delicious against his bare skin than Oliver had imagined.

     Malcolm had the chauffeur drive them around the outskirts of town for an hour.  Oliver had wondered why they didn't just park and let the poor man go away for lunch or something... until they had hit the open roads, and he could feel the rumble of the engine vibrating through the seats and into his body.  Atop him, Malcolm growled in response, and Oliver grinned in feral bliss.

     They probably drove around for more than an hour.

     Then they went home.  _Home_ with his _Mate_.  Despite everything else -- broken friendships, estranged relatives -- Oliver could not be happier than he was at that moment.

     He spent that night in the arms of his Bondmate, curled together in a tangle of limbs and just about purring.

     The next day was brighter and sunnier than it had any right to be.  Oliver remembered the trust fund that had been set up for the baby.  It was still in place, and he cooed to the tiny spark of life as he cradled his belly.  Fortunately, no one saw this.

     And then, Malcolm and Oliver were married, in a quiet and undisturbed ceremony.  The press conference afterward ran a bit longer than originally planned, due to the inevitable questions about why they had almost broken up.

     Oliver smiled shamelessly and extolled the virtues of working things out, compromising, and making sacrifices.  Without giving away any details, of course.  It all probably sounded like some lines from a chick flick, but he didn't care.

     He even coaxed a smile out of Malcolm, and a kiss, while the press eagerly snapped pictures.

     All that flash, all that noise, faded out as they broke the kiss and Oliver looked into Malcolm's eyes.  He could read the Alpha's thoughts quite clearly.

     It was time to go home again.

     Oliver licked his lips and smiled, prompting more of a grin from Malcolm.  They made another beautiful picture as they waved to the crowd.  
  


 

 

  
  
     Oliver loosened his tie and slowly drew it from his neck.  He was distracted by Malcolm's divestment of his own tie.  The lines of the tailored suit jacket accented every  motion of his shoulders and arms, reminding Oliver of the strength concealed within.

     "Chain me up again," he found himself saying.

     Malcolm turned around, one brow quirked.  With deft precision born of years of practice, he continued releasing the cufflinks from his sleeves.  "You need to take your shirt off."

     Oliver shook his head.  "Chain me up and pull my clothes off," he said, recalling the feel of tight leather being dragged from his hips.

     "You do realize, it's impossible to get your shirt off while your hands are cuffed."

     "Not if you have a knife."  
  


  
  
     Despite the common stereotypes about Alphas, Malcolm's bedroom wasn't equipped with bondage gear.  He was nothing, however, if not resourceful, and Oliver had developed a knack for cannibalizing parts during his exile.  He had been quite helpful in getting the restraints put together, but still an utter brat when it came to taking his clothes off.

     Malcolm had discarded his jacket and now rolled his shirtsleeves up as he eyed the Omega, standing with his arms stretched overhead, his weight mostly on the balls of his feet.  When he'd first had Oliver hanging at his mercy, the boy's face had been filled with rage.  Hie eyes still smoldered, but with a completely different type of passion.  His pupils were wide with desire.

     Malcolm took his time.  Oliver had put him in control, and he was a master of that discipline.  He noted how the jacket hung awkwardly, bunched up around the shoulders, splayed open at the front.  The white shirt rode up taut over the young man's torso, pulling against the belt that held it tucked.

     Malcolm's eyes followed the line of buttons upward, and then he met Oliver's eyes.  The clear need within them drew him forward.  He stalked towards his captive prey, his Alpha hunting instincts rising.  He knew just how to make his first attack.

     He touched the centerline of the shirt, two fingers pressed against the doubled fabric as he slowly traced upward.  "You're going to wish you'd taken off your shirt like I told you," he threatened softly.  Oliver's breath caught in his throat.  Without pause, Malcolm took the front of the shirt firmly in both hands and ripped it wide, sending buttons clattering across the room.  Oliver's whole body twitched in reaction; his muscles stood out in stark relief.

     Malcolm ghosted his fingers over those trembling abs.  The sight of the scars disturbed him, reminded him of his sins.  But those were remnants of the past.  What mattered now was the future he could give his bond-mate.  And it was going to be good.

     He moved around behind Oliver, his right hand lingering in contact with his skin.  The young man twisted his head, trying to follow him with his eyes.  Malcolm fisted the collar of the jacket in his left hand, pulled back, making his captive sway in the restraints.  "I really liked this suit, too," he growled as he unsheathed the combat knife.  Again, he didn't wait for a response before he raised the blade and plunged it down through the taut fabric.  Oliver twitched again, a gasp of surprise on his lips.

     Malcolm continued working the blade down the back of the jacket.  Contrary to Oliver's assertion that one only needed a knife to get it off, a pair of shears would have worked better.  He attacked the right shoulder, then the left, shredding the jacket until he could rip the panels loose from the arm seams.  As for the arms themselves, he wouldn't be able to get the proper angle on them.  They would just have to stay put until he uncuffed Oliver.

     Panting a bit, he yanked at the shirt collar next.  "And do you know how good this looked on you?"  More carefully, so as not to hit skin, Malcolm forced the knife point through the fabric.  He widened the cut a bit, then removed the knife to shove his fingers into the hole to grip it and tear.  Two hard yanks, and the fabric ripped down the back.  Malcolm pulled, getting the shirt tails to slide out of the trousers.

     Another rip, and the shirt was in two pieces, held together at the collar.  Clenching his teeth in a determined snarl, Malcolm continued cutting and tearing the shirt into strips, revealing more of his lover's scarred flesh.  He wasn't the only one panting when he was done.  Oliver moaned in appreciation.

     Malcolm circled back around in front of him.  Oliver's eyes flashed as he caught sight of the knife blade.  His body started trembling.  His eyes went glassy, unfocused.

     "Oliver?" Malcolm said in concern.  He reached for him, but Oliver started whimpering, crying piteously in the back of his throat.  Malcolm turned so the knife was away from Oliver, hidden by his body.  He placed his free hand along the young man's bristly cheek.  "Oliver?  Are you all right?"

     With a gasp, Oliver flinched back, but when he opened his eyes, they were clearer.  "I'm fine," he said, catching his breath.  "Keep going."

     Malcolm frowned.  Keeping his hand firmly on his lover's cheek, he searched his eyes.  "You need a safe word."

     Oliver's lips twisted in a wry grimace and he pulled away slightly.  "Whatever you want to do to me, I doubt it will come close to anything I survived."

     Malcolm felt another pang of guilt and looked away.  No matter how far in the past, he was to blame for Oliver's scars, just as much as if he'd held the blade himself.

     "Hey."  Oliver leaned sideways to catch his eyes.  "I said I'm fine."  He arched his back like a cat, tipping his hips forward so Malcolm couldn't fail to notice the distinct shape tenting the front of his trousers.  "If you don't keep going," the boy threatened, "I am going to be all kinds of traumatized."

     The dose of humor lightened Malcolm's mood.  Still, he took a moment to walk away.  He pulled the sheath from his belt and put the knife in it.  He set it down on the bureau, clearly in in Oliver's sight, so he would know where it was, and that Malcolm wouldn't be threatening him with it.

     He walked back, looking over Oliver held captive, tatters hanging from his shoulders.  He remembered the raw strength in that body, remembered the feel of Oliver surging under him.  His cock stirred in lustful anticipation.

     Oliver watched his approach with hungry eyes.  He looked a little disappointed that Malcolm hand put away his toy, and a little desperate for some more physical action.  So lacking in discipline.

     Malcolm started rolling down his sleeves as he circled behind Oliver yet again.  The Omega twisted to try to see what he was doing.  Malcolm lurked at the periphery of his vision, methodically and maddeningly unrolling his sleeves one little turn at a time.  Then he worked all the buttons loose.  One at a time.  Really, there was no reason to be ruining two shirts, was there?

     Oliver huffed a breath of frustration.  Apparently, he didn't agree.

     Malcolm strolled further out of Oliver's line of sight as he finished pulling off the shirt.  Oliver twisted the other way, but Malcolm was careful to stand in his blind spot, though he did nothing to muffle the sound as he worked his belt loose.  
  


 

  
     Oliver's ears perked up at the faint but distinct _clink_ of a belt buckle.  He licked his lips in anticipation.  For a moment, he wondered if Malcolm was indeed stripping, or just meant to use the belt to punish him for the destruction of the suit.  He'd said Malcolm could do anything he wanted, and really, a beating was child's play compared to the torture's he'd suffered on the island, but he did not look forward to it.  A moment later, he heard the delicious sound of a fly being opened, and he brightened considerably.

     His breath quickened.  He was really enjoying this.  Even despite the moment of blinding fear brought on by the flashback.  He hadn't experienced many lately, but clearly there were still hidden triggers he could trip over, like old land mines scattered in the woods of Lian Yu.

     When he'd come out of it, he'd still been chained, but the comforting presence of his Alpha was there, his skin touching him, his scent enveloping him.  With a strong mate, perhaps Oliver could finally work through the things that had happened to him on that island.

     Best of all, he wasn't in heat.  While the heat brought on a strong, burning need for sex, most of its desperation came from the debilitating pain of the muscle cramps.  Without their onslaught hanging over his head, he could relax and freely enjoy the anticipation.  And Malcolm seemed determined to drive him mad with wanting.

     Oliver shifted his weight impatiently.  Even without his hormones rampaging, his natural lubricant was making him wet.  His entrance throbbed with the aching hunger to be filled.  His cock stood out hard, straining against the cloth it was trapped within.

     His breath was harsh in his ears, making him vulnerable to Malcolm's stealthy approach.  He gasped as strong arms suddenly encircled him, and a warm chest pressed against his back.  Skin slid against skin.  Oliver leaned back, reveling in the feel.  The two men shifted, moved against each other, pushing the tattered strips of fabric aside to make more heated contact.

    Malcolm nuzzled his neck.  His right hand came to rest just under Oliver's left pectoral.  He could feel his heartbeat echo against it, and at his back, the rhythm of his bond-mate's heart.

     The dangling ends of the belt struck the back of his legs.  Malcolm wedged his free hand between their bodies, shifted his hips, and then the hardness of his cock came in contact with Oliver's ass, though still shielded by far too much fabric.  Malcolm rubbed against him, and he pushed back, tilting his hips to bring more of his glutes into contact with that shaft.  Malcolm panted in his ear.

     A little breathlessly, Oliver told him, "If you don't strip these pants off me, they're going to get stained."

     He got a throaty chuckle in reply.  "Your shirt and jacket are totally destroyed, but now you're worried about a stain?"

     Oliver groaned in frustration, which earned another laugh.  It vibrated between the two men's rib cages.  In a fit of pique, Oliver tried to move away, but of course it was impossible, being chained up.  Malcolm pinned him with an arm around his waist and continued rubbing his cock against him.  He was helpless to stop the Alpha from doing whatever he wanted to him.  His breath quickened with the desire for his Alpha to do a lot more.  A whole lot more.  Oliver whimpered and squirmed.

     Malcolm scraped his teeth lightly down Oliver's neck.  His right hand slid across the pectoral planes until his thumb brushed across the taut nipple.  Brushed, then rubbed, and then there was pinching, kneading, until blood rushed in to harden the sensitive nub.

     Then Malcolm stopped, much too soon, and pressed his thumb to the skin below the nipple.  He pulled down, opposite the force pulling upward on Oliver's arms.  The flesh elongated further into an oval.  It tingled, and Oliver's cock surged in response.  He thrust his hips forward, wishing he had that too-tight leather back on.  It had hurt, constricting him so badly, but at least it didn't _ache_ from lack of friction.  Another moan escaped Oliver's lips.

     Then Malcolm's arms slipped from him.  Oliver caught his breath while Malcolm moved to face him again.  His face was flushed, his hair starting to go into spikes from sweat.  His torso gleamed with it.  His leather belt dangled limply; the waistband of his trousers rode low on his hips, hanging precariously.  One side of the fly hung enticingly loose, revealing a bulging span of white.  Oliver stared at it, mesmerized by the prospect of the beast breaking free.

     So distracted was he that Malcolm's onslaught took him completely off guard.  The Alpha darted in and put his mouth over Oliver's nipple.  He licked aggressively, sucked.  He scraped his teeth over it, hard enamel against tender flesh, then sucked again, hard.  Hard enough to draw blood to the skin.  It impelled more sounds of desperate want from Oliver's throat.

     It was driving him mad.  Oliver gripped the rope the handcuffs dangled from and without heed to whether it would hold his weight, he pulled his legs up and flung them around Malcolm's waist.  Malcolm fell against him, a completely startled look on his face.  Oliver drew him closer, shifted to clamp his thighs tight around his captive.

     Malcolm pushed against his chest.  "Let go!"

     Oliver showed his teeth.  "Make me."  He thrust with his hips, rubbing against Malcolm.  Finally, _finally_ , getting some of that friction he craved.  He wasn't about to give it up.

     The Alpha's eyes flashed at his defiance.  An electric thrill ran up Oliver's belly with the knowledge that his Alpha was going to _do something_ to him.

     Malcolm reached around and grabbed his hair.  It wasn't easy, close-shorn as it was, but he got a grip on the back of Oliver's skull and pulled his head back.  Malcolm lowered his head and put his teeth to the Omega's exposed throat.  He did not bite, but the threat was clear.

     Malcolm forced Oliver's head back further.  The overhead light was in his eyes, blinding him.  He could feel his breath rasping through his stretched windpipe.  Malcolm nipped at the sides of his throat, not hard, not breaking the skin, not yet.  The Alpha put his other hand on the back of Oliver's neck, gripping him firmly.  He bit again, pinching the skin, and Oliver yelped.  The pressure on the base of his skull was summoning his Omega instinct to submit... submit... _submit!_

     Then Malcolm stretched his jaws to clamp his teeth over Oliver's windpipe.  Slowly, he applied more and more pressure, and Oliver's legs spread in a gesture of abject submission, leaving himself vulnerable and open for the Alpha to take him.

     Malcolm released him and staggered back.  Oliver, gulping for breath, got his wobbly legs under him.  He blinked, spots still floating before his eyes.

     "Easy."  Malcolm's hands steadied him.  Again, the Alpha was behind him.  He stroked Oliver's flanks to settle him.

     Oliver stood a bit straighter.  He didn't resist when Malcolm's hands slid lower and began loosening his belt.  He docilely cooperated with the removal of his trousers and underwear, shimmying his hips to help them slide down.  When they pooled at his feet, he stepped out of them and stood naked in his restraints.

     Now Malcolm stroked the bare skin of his ass, though only with his hands.  He squeezed and kneaded the thick muscle, and hot slick ran down the inside of Oliver's thighs.  "Please," the Omega whimpered.

     Malcolm slid his hands to the front of Oliver's waist, moved closer to his back, heat radiating from him as they barely touched.  He gripped Oliver's cock, eliciting another throaty sound.  He pulled the shaft upright against Oliver's belly, then rubbed hard at the base of the head.  It was almost as if he were trying to force the knot out, but Omegas didn't have one, not even the vestigial knot some Betas claimed to have.  Nevertheless, blood surged into his glans, making it swell, stretching the skin almost painfully tight.

     "Please, let me down," he begged again.  "Please, fuck me now."

     "You haven't exactly been cooperative."

     "I'll do anything you want.  I just need you inside me."

     "Do you?"  Malcolm released his shaft and came around in front of him.  He still had his trousers on, dammit!  He fished around in one pocket until he came up with the handcuff key.  He had to stand so close to reach the cuffs that Oliver's sensitive head brushed the cloth of his pants, and he could swear he felt every thread.  He started shaking in anticipation.

     The cuffs clicked open.  "On your knees."  Oliver knelt at his Alpha's command.  "Show me."

     Eagerly, he shook his arms loose from the detached sleeves, then reached to pull at Malcolm's pants and free his cock.  He hesitated a moment.  In any of his entanglements with Beta men, he'd been very careful not to engage in the more submissive acts, lest his Omega dynamic be revealed.

     "You don't know how?" Malcolm asked gently.

     His further hesitation was answer enough.

     "It's all right.  Just show me how much you want it."

     And, dammit, he did want it.  He took hold of Malcolm's cock and put it in his mouth.  There was no way in hell he could take it all in, but he sucked gamely, a bit sloppily, running his tongue in and out against the underside of the shaft.  His enthusiasm could make up for what he lacked in technique.  Malcolm grunted in pleasure.

     He put his hands on Oliver's shoulders, one alongside his neck, the thumb up behind his ear.  "Easy... easy.  Hold still."  He stroked Oliver's hair, then gently cupped his head.  "Oliver, I'm going to put it in your throat."

     He put his hands against Malcolm's hips, uncertainty running through him.  This was the first time he'd had a cock in his mouth; he wasn't sure how he would take it.  And always in the background was the fear of having an Alpha knot in your throat.

     "Look at me," Malcolm commanded.

     Oliver tipped his head, his eyes, up.

     Malcolm looked down at him, his eyes steady, his hands gentle.  "Just a little," he said.  "I'm not going to hurt you.  Trust me, and relax."

     His stomach knotted, but he was willing to try, for his Alpha.  He wasn't exactly in a position to give much of a nod, but he slackened his jaw and relaxed.

     Malcolm slid his cock a bit further into Oliver's mouth, back until the head pressed up against his soft palate.  Oliver concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and stifling his gag reflex.  He wasn't in any danger.

     Malcolm tilted his head back with firm hands.  The swell of his glans seemed too big for Oliver's throat, but he pushed firmly, and the Omega let it stretch him.  He was all right until the shaft blocked his airway.  Then he panicked a bit, clawed at Malcolm's hip.

     "Easy.  Easy!"  The words sounded distant beyond the rushing of blood in his ears.  A moment later, he was free, gasping.  "Good."  Malcolm stroked his head.  "Good boy.  Turn around."

     A warm rush of pleasure flooded Oliver's body at the praise.  Eagerly, he turned, his whole body attuned to receiving its reward.  Malcolm's bed was close by.  He moved to it and rested his chest on the mattress.  It took Malcolm a moment to slip free of his clothes, then he crouched to cover Oliver.

     Before he mounted, he pressed his cock up between Oliver's thighs, letting the Omega's lubricant coat it.  Oliver recalled his body's automatic response to accept the Alpha, so he arched his back and opened his haunches.  Still, he cried out as Malcolm plunged into him.

     The Alpha stroked his cock, milked him, as he rode him hard.  Oliver closed his eyes and spread his legs.  Without the heat, it was harder to go into an Omega state.  Then Malcolm's thrusts began to strike sparks from Oliver's prostate, and it didn't matter.

     The constricting friction against his shaft and the stretching friction within his body sent waves of pleasure through him.  The energy coiled inside him, like a watch spring wound tighter and tighter, until it was ready to break loose.  He moved with the rhythm, thrusting back against Malcolm, thrusting himself into the man's hands.

     But Malcolm's rhythm suddenly faltered.  He surged, pinning Oliver to the bed.  Heat exploded inside him, and the whole bed shuddered with the pumping force as Malcolm spent himself.

     Then the tension drained out of him, and he slumped against Oliver's back, panting to catch his breath.  He must not have been as good at self control as he'd thought, teasing Oliver all that time.  Oliver had only started to register a feeling of disappointment when he realized the Alpha hadn't knotted.

     Malcolm stroked his cock, working his fingers over the swollen head, smearing the slick heat of precum over it.  He kissed the back of Oliver's shoulder in mute apology, in promise, and he slowly moved his hips, sliding against Oliver's flesh, working back up to full hardness.

     Oliver moved against him, trying to help. He flexed his buttocks to increase friction.  Again, this was a technique he had avoided learning.  Perhaps his Alpha would train him in it.  Oliver _really_ wanted to please him.

     Malcolm murmured encouragement in his ear, and they worked back into their rhythm.  The head of Malcolm's shaft pressed his inner sphincter.  Oliver found it difficult to release the opening while every other muscle in his body coiled tighter.  Malcolm lengthened his stroke, struck not double, but triple sparks within Oliver -- rubbing his prostate, pressing his sphincter, and tightening the ring of his thumb and forefinger around the head of his cock every time he stroked down over it.

     "Harder," Oliver panted.

     "I don't want to hurt you."

     "Put it inside me, dammit."  It was like the glans being in his throat, it wasn't going to breach unless Malcolm _pushed_ and forced it to expand.

     The Alpha thrust harder, and Oliver bit down a cry as the membranous muscle was stretched too far.  Malcolm pulled back.  "I'm going to hurt you."

     "Bite me."  He didn't mean that to come out as confrontational as it sounded.  "On the neck," he clarified.  He needed that trigger, and he needed it fast, dammit!  His hips thrust eagerly against Malcolm's hands.

     Teeth closed on the back of his neck.  Bit, hard.  Oliver's body reacted, opening itself to accept the Alpha's cock.  Malcolm thrust, breaching him easily this time.  Oliver's sphincter burned with the stretch, the sweet, hot ache of having another human being so deep inside him, touching him in the most sensitive spot.  He moaned uncontrollably as Malcolm fucked him, more intensely now, the head of his cock pushing through the cervix, just like the ring tightening over Oliver's glans.

     With a deep-chested growl, Malcolm drove fully into him.  His emerging knot struck Oliver's cervix, then locked inside it.  Oliver ejaculated, spattering the edge of the coverlet.  He came so hard, his hips pumped with involuntary micro-thrusts, and these in turn caused his body to strike rapidly on the knot inside it, filling him with that white-hot ecstasy.

     Oliver felt the surge of cervical orgasm overwhelm him.  He cried out as waves of pleasure rocked his body.  Malcolm's voice mingled with his as the orgasm pumped the Alpha's cock and he filled Oliver with his hot loads.  
  
  


  
     An indeterminable time later, Oliver emerged from a sea of white noise.  He blinked as his vision returned and the rushing in his ears subsided.  His body felt as if he'd been running a triathlon:  aching, but triumphant.  In the pit of his stomach, he could feel his Alpha's knot binding them together.

     He was leaning on the side of the bed, and Malcolm was leaning on him.  The Alpha stirred.  "We should have gotten into the bed."  They weren't going to be able to manage that maneuver as long as they were locked together.

     Oliver grabbed the coverlet and started pulling it off.  "You might need to invest in a metal one."

     "A brass bed?  Do you know how loud those things are?"

     Oliver quirked a brow, because he didn't.  Now he was determined to find out.  "It can't be louder than wood splintering and the whole thing crashing to the floor."

     Malcolm chuckled, his breath warm on the back of Oliver's neck.  "Hurry up, or _my_ legs are going to cramp up."

     Oliver arranged the blanket in a pile, keeping the damp spot rolled under.  Malcolm held him tightly around the waist so they could move together to lie on it.  Then he shifted to rubbing Oliver's arm.

     Oliver sighed and relaxed against the strong bulwark of his Alpha's chest.  He let his mind drift in a blissful haze, contemplating what had to be the most perfect Omega sex conceivable.  For the first time in his life, he was glad to be born an Omega male.  Who else could experience a double climax?  An Alpha female, maybe?  Perhaps that was the true human pairing: Alpha female and Omega male.

     But he was content -- no, _happy_ \-- with his Alpha.

     Oliver shifted a bit, trying to snuggle deeper into the rumpled blanket.  "'M cold," he mumbled, like a petulant child.  The damned hormones must be messing with him again.

     Yet, without complaint, Malcolm levered himself up and stretched to tug another blanket from the bed.  He drew it over them, cocooning them.  He pressed his knees up under the back of Oliver's thighs, bent his spine so the Omega could curl up within his embrace.  He even pulled a corner of the blanket free and gave it to Oliver to snuggle to his chest.

     God, he thought, I'm nesting _again?_   Being pregnant was so annoying.  He felt a flutter in his stomach at the thought.  "Are you sure we're not hurting the baby?"  Oh God, he did _not_ want to give up the sex for months on end!

     "You're so hormonal about this baby," Malcolm chided him.

     "I know," he groaned in embarrassment.  "I know; I'm sorry.  I'm such a--"

     "Shh."  Malcolm nipped his neck to shut him up, then licked to show he didn't mean it badly.  "It's nature.  Don't apologize."  He continued caressing Oliver's arm.  "When nature feels this might threaten the baby, your hormones will give you a serious aversion to it."

     "Ugh."  He didn't want to contemplate that.  Malcolm kept stroking him, kissing his shoulder to soothe him.  It made him feel a lot better.  And Malcolm had been through this before.  "What's it like?"

     "Like being married to a very temperamental bear, who wants to kill anyone with a penis that comes near."

     "No, I...."  He put his hand over Malcolm's.  He understood how difficult it was for the man to talk about his lost bond-mate, even lightly.  "I mean, what's it like to have a baby?"

     Malcolm sobered.  "It's the most frightening thing you will ever experience."  He entwined his fingers with Oliver's.  "It's also the most wonderful, the happiest, the most incredible moment in your life.  When you're so full of hope, and...."  His voice wavered.  "You want everything to be perfect for your child.  Before it all...."  He pressed his face against Oliver's shoulder.  His body shook with choked emotion.

     "Hey."  Oliver squeezed his hand.  He knew Malcolm was thinking of Tommy, of the broken, bitter relationship with his son.  Their relationship had never healed from the loss of Rebecca.  "I'm not ever going away.  I'm going to be here for you and the baby.  No one is ever going to take me away," he vowed.  "Or ever get between us."

     He twisted, as much as he could, to look at Malcolm, to press his hand to the side of his lover's face, to brush the tears away.  Malcolm took a shaky breath.  He looked down at Oliver, his defenses lowered, his eyes full of emotion.  He opened his mouth to say something, but... there were no words.

     Oliver caressed his cheek.  "I know," he said.  He knew, because he felt the same.  How could he not?  After everything Malcolm had given up, just to be with him.  Oliver tipped his head to meet his bond-mate's lips.  They kissed softly, deeply.

     Words were not needed.

 

 


	18. The Green Mantle

     The Starling City Vigilante found the dusty evidence box in the basement storage unit.  He double-checked the case number against the one Felicity had dug up before slicing through the sealing tape.  Deftly, he transferred the bagged contents into a satchel, then retraced his steps.

     He snuck upstairs, past the lone guard, then stood below his access point.  "I'm clear," he murmured into the comms.  A moment later, the ventilation hatch opened and a rope uncoiled down towards him.

     Oliver grabbed it and began hauling himself up.  At the top, a strong arm clad in dark leather grasped his and helped lift him to the rooftop.  The two archers retrieved the rope, re-secured the hatch, then flitted like ghosts to a higher, more remote roof.

     Oliver handed Malcolm the satchel.  The Alpha took it reverently, but the eyes gleaming in the shadow of his hood were only for his Omega.  Malcolm embraced him, wordlessly.  Oliver leaned into him, absorbed himself in the smell of leather.  They were using scent blockers along with the hoods and outfits to protect their identities, and yet Oliver didn't miss the pheromones.  He still felt a fierce love and loyalty to this man, to his Bondmate.

     They eased apart after a time.  Oliver turned and moved to the vantage point on the corner of the roof.  Starling City lay spread out before him, pinpoint lights glowing in the darkness.  Malcolm stood behind him, like a shadow, like a guardian angel.  His arms slipped around the Omega again, and they looked down over their city.

     Oliver felt a momentary twinge of vertigo, and he pressed a hand to his belly.  _I'm going to have to gives this up_ , he realized.  Not sooner or later, but now.  He couldn't risk the fighting, the getting shot at.  And eventually, he wouldn't be able to run and climb like he was used to.  Being pregnant would take a lot of adjustments.  Grey melancholy enveloped him.  Starling would have to get along without the green-hooded vigilante during his maternity leave.

     "What's wrong?" Malcolm asked, sensing his change in mood.  His hand curled protectively over Oliver's abdomen, covering the Omega's own.

     "I'm fine," he said.  "We're fine," he amended.  "It's just...  I'll have to stop this.  Stop protecting the city."

     Malcolm eased out to the side and turned to look at him.  "You're going to give up being the Vigilante?"

     "I have to."  He looked down.

     "You know... the Vigilante appeared as soon as you came back.  Now you get pregnant, and the Vigilante disappears?  People are going to figure things out."

     "You don't want me to quit?"  He gave Malcolm a puzzled look.  "But our baby--"

     "No, you're right.  You need to keep our child safe."  Malcolm reached out and touched the hood, running the cloth between gloved forefinger and thumb.  "But this city needs the Vigilante.  While you're attending to the baby... I'll do it."

     "You'll wear the hood?"

     "With pride and honor.  And the principles you set forth."  Malcolm moved beside him and put an arm over his shoulders.  "Together, we can make sure Starling is never without an archer keeping watch."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and DONE! It was tough going, but finally we are here. Thanks to everyone who stuck with it, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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